


I’m Still Me

by Ourfandomcrazyuniverse



Category: Starkid, The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, tgwdlm - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Injury, I’ll add tags accordingly as the chapters progress, Mostly just Paul and Emma so far though, Panic Attacks, not too bad but a bit of bleeding and needles tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-06-29 12:13:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19829989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ourfandomcrazyuniverse/pseuds/Ourfandomcrazyuniverse
Summary: Just after the end of the show, Emma is being led to her apotheosis. But paul feels the hive should convince her in other ways, and he’ll take up that challenge. Basically infected!Paul trying to convince Emma and be nice and prove he’s still the man she trusts, but of course Emma’s not gonna be down for that just because he says so





	1. Reconsideration

Emma screamed in rage, even though her throat was already starting to burn. Her heels dug into the floor as they dragged her along, all these faces from Hatchetfield, all back in Clivesdale, but not cured like she’d hoped, they all had those dead eyes and too wide a smile. They were all infected. With another scream of pure defiance, even though she felt there was little else she could do at this point, against a group of much stronger beings, she threw her fists around, grunting and writhing her body as much as she could, even if it killed her leg. She wasn’t gonna let them take her easy. 

“STOP!” She yelled, attempting to kick at them and watching as they backed off, though her hits seemed to do little to nothing. “Ugh!” She groaned as she lifted her legs in the air and threw herself to the floor, they couldn’t drag her like this right? Unfortunately the answer was yes. “Fuck OFF!” She tried again, and she couldn’t help but have a whimper escape as bill and ted lifted her feet, and Nora and the nurse took control under her arms. “No.” She mumbled, desperately trying to look around, to find him. Surely he couldn’t let this happen to her? There had to be some part of him left! As Ted and Bill in synch heaved her up to reposition her better, Ted jostled her bad leg, so as much as she didn’t want to, her instinct was to cry out to the only person she’d recently trusted.

“Paul!” She could feel her salvia getting thick as she choked back tears, her throat raw. “Paul, please! Help!”  
She thought her screams were in vain, falling on deaf ears, none of them seemed to care about her little outbursts, until-  
“It’s alright Emma...”  
She squealed, throwing her head around until she saw Paul parting his way through the infected crowd. “Paul...” she choked. Even just seeing him, even infected, it gave her just an ounce of hope, deep in her heart, that everything would somehow be okay. He gave her that patronising but caring look, like she was a child having a tantrum before getting their shots. “Paul, please don’t do this.” Her voice was softer now, a quiet plea almost drowned out but the excited hum of the hive as they took their final piece of the Hatchetfield puzzle.

Paul tilted his head at her with a small smile, and before she could react he was taking her fists in his own. She thought to stop her from punching out, but instead his much larger hands just smoothed over her own. She whimpered as she watched him stroke her with such an adoring expression, it made her stomach twist, how soft he was being while standing by as she was dragged to her death, or rather her ‘apotheosis’.

“Emma,” he looked down at her, a sigh full of happiness, like he’d been containing how excited he was, fanning across her cheeks, making her cringe. “Soon we can have a happy life, together.” He tried to explain, only to feel like his words were now also falling on deaf ears.  
“Pau-“  
“Full of love, and joy, and music.” Well not for long. He kissed her hands, breathing in her scent like it was the most normal thing to do in this scenario before letting her go, even as she clawed at his hands to stay attached, and letting the others go on ahead.

If Paul wouldn’t stop this she’d have to try again herself. After all, it was always up to her to look out for herself, no one else would help and that’s how it always had been and always would be, unless she lost right now and she was dammed if that were to happen.

More adrenaline burst through her short body and fuelled by survival instinct alone she did everything she could to pry their hands off of her.  
Paul just chuckled from somewhere vaguely behind her “You’ll see in just a moment Emma.”  
She would not listen to him. She managed to distract them with her hands enough to swoop her leg up, her foot connecting with Ted’s face with a loud thwap.  
“When you’re with us, with me...”  
He was not sane! She was standing now, and they’d reverted to pushing her back closer to the door where she was sure to meet her doom... goodbye freedom, she was dying in Clivesdale after all.  
“This is inevitab-“  
SMACK

Emma fell to the ground, crying out. Her cheek was burning and her ear ringing immensely. It wasn’t worse than any pain she’d been in since this apocalypse but still not good. She looked up to see what had happened, her eyes like a lamb in a lions den had been swivelling and cast to all faces, she had no idea what was going on to be able to defend herself. Looking up she saw Ted, the back of his hand still raised and leaning over her, his chest pumping and eyes neon blue, pure anger pouring out of them. Maybe her kicks did do something after all.

He bent down for her, and for some reason just the ferocity in his eyes scared her more than the whole hive seeming to want her to ‘join their family’. Screaming she tired to use her hands to crawl back, but it was no use, her back was up against the hordes legs within a second and Ted had easily grabbed her bad leg, dragging her out with it. Her eyes watered with pain, sure he was scratching through her bandage and stitches all at once. “That’s your last chance you little bitch, we’re going to-“  
“STOP!”

It was strange to see. The entire hive straightened up, like she’d seen Colonel Schaffer do when arriving and leaving during their many visits. Even Ted was standing to attention, but his mouth still twitched, like some part of him was still roaring to just have at Emma. And they were all in a perfect circle, although layered in this small corridor, surrounding her.

“Wha-?” She mumbled to herself. Not that Emma could care less what was going on right now, as long as they weren’t dragging her or mauling at her. She looked around at all their faces and not a single one of them was looking down at her, so she decided better now than never. In reality all these decisions, like backing up from the suited up man with crazy hair and thick glasses, took only about 2 seconds. Her hands clawed at the ground, and she tried to use some of that elbow grease to lift herself and her now much worse leg off the floor, during all the silence and stillness. So when a hand shot out at her it made her jump, and bring her hands to her chest protectively. Paul took that as being close enough and closed the distance to grab her hands back, pulling her onto her feet and quickly drawing her to his chest, one arm caged around her own and the other pointing at his fellow hive members.

Emma didn’t mean to let out a small squeak as she was pulled up quicker than a flash, but she wasn’t expecting it. She couldn’t bare to look at Paul let alone have him hold her hands like this. So when he started to hug her, swaying side so side and then entrapping her in his cage like arms, she started to panic.  
‘Don’t let it show. Don’t let it show.’ She tried to remind herself. ‘Stay calm. Stay alert... Stay right here’

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Paul spoke up now, swivelling and bringing Emma with him in 180 turns constantly, wanting to look his family in the eyes, pleading with them not to take a step closer to her and hear him out. “We all came here to make them as happy as us! We were supposed to entice them, convince them of our ways! Never force it upon them, and leave them in a daze.” His free hand now gently brushed over a small bruise still showing on Emma’s head from all the events in Hatchetfield, she wanted to wriggle out of his arms right then but the arm around her chest was still just as protective. She at least was glad he hadn’t chosen to demonstrate on her thigh scar.

For a moment all she could hear was the pounding of Paul’s heart against her ear, as she was pressed even further into his body when the hive didn’t chorus with agreement immediately. Well at least she knew some part of him was still alive. It scared her even more than usual when one of them spoke as the quiet of thinking Paul’s claim over had been broken. This would make or break how she’d be tortured into joining, she thought to herself. 

She watched as Charlotte spoke up, she’d noticed her and a few of the other residents of Hatchetfield waiting in the wings so to speak, hiding behind the doors until Emma was dragged in, she guessed in case she decided to make a run for it they thought it’d be the best plan. But for now all she could focus on was the rhythmic tone Charlotte ‘spoke’ in as she piped up, as mousy as ever, even raising her hand as if a kid in class. Paul obliged by nodding his head at her. 

“Well, he does have a point.”  
All the heads shot towards the sweater wearing woman and Emma felt a shiver run cold through her body. She shrugged at Paul until he got the message not to try and smooth that ripple of fear, placing his hand back at his side.  
“After all, I decided to dance, she wanted to be with Sam.”  
The way she- it- whatever went from first to third person just let her brain revise the fact that these were no longer her friends, but imposters. 

“I was going to shoot myself to be with my daughter any way.”  
She looked over to see the once soothing smile of Bill, now too... ‘shiny’, and watched as he held the hand of a girl who must have been in her late teens. She couldn’t help but feel for the kind man.  
Paul was smiling now, looking to the others for confirmation that this was the way, he even relaxed his grip of Emma. Unless she moved of course.

“Y-Yeah.” Emma found her confidence growing, after all, fighting for survival didn’t always mean fisticuffs and brawls, this worked too. She didn’t even have time to realise how easy it was to slip her arm out of Paul’s, too preoccupied with finding the face of... ah yes there he was. “Hidgens!”  
He pressed his hand to his chest, like he was shocked she’d talked to him, leaning back but with an open ear, very melodramatic. “He happily gave himself up to you guys, clear as day!” She dropped her arms to her side and huffed as if to say ‘no shit Sherlock’s, figure it out’, this was working!

And the confused faces of the hive let her know this all too well. It was like for once they’d broken the chain. Their heads bobbed to the side without rhythm. They’d look to one of their members who wouldn’t instinctively know to make eye contact with them at that point. Maybe now she could escape if they really were that broken..-  
“So we’re in agreement!”  
She almost choked at Paul’s sudden happy cry. Even more so at the hands clapped down on her shoulders, trapping her yet again. And even though, as evidence, the man next to her scared the living shit out of her, she still found herself leaning closer to him as the hive all spoke together. “Yes Paul, we forgot our ways, but you’re bringing us back on track. Take the girl. Go find a place. And we’ll co-ordinate our next attack.”

Paul was beaming, clearly an unsaid conversation had happened through the hive mind, leaving Emma confused and lost, but there was one part of that little melody she understood without pause...  
“Take the girl...”

Before Emma could get a peep out she felt herself being lifted into the air. “No, no, NO! Put me down NOW! PAUL!!” She was crying again as she felt herself being lifted into the air. A strangled moan being crushed out of her as she was settled onto Paul’s shoulders. She wanted to kick and scream but the hive was leaving back through the door she was shoved through just minutes earlier, and she watched them disappear as Paul stepped the other way, towards the hospitals exit. 

“Paul..?” She tried once more, not being able to look into his eyes like this, but truthfully, if his eyes were the electric blue of the others she wasn’t sure if she’d want to.  
“Emma?”  
She waited a second, unsure if she’d actually heard him, would he even want to talk to her? But as he patiently awaited her reply to let him know she was all his, she sniffled to make sure her voice would even work. “Yes Paul?” It was definitely strained.  
She couldn’t see much except downwards, but she could feel the tension in his back and shoulders, or maybe that’s just what it was always like for them. “You need to be quiet or people are going to die.”

Emma just nodded, biting down on her lip as if to stop her from speaking even though they were completely alone in the dead of night, that’s how peip wanted to move her. Oh god, her new life, it was all going so well, it would have all to come together, after years, finally...  
Drained of her last fight, and even though her mind was screaming at her to run from him, cut his head off and kill every last motherfucking alien, that this wasn’t the man she- this was not the real Paul, her body fell limp into his arms, blindly hoping she’d be safe with him, or at least it’d be over soon, and maybe, just maybe, she could sleep through whatever was going to come.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you hate it that much, there’s a few other places to choose from, but we only have a small family at the moment, and I tried to find where I thought you’d be most happy and I could keep you safest. I’m sorry I didn’t have a lot of options.”  
> +  
> “Looks like the edge of your stitch has come out, luckily that’s an easy fix.” Paul smiled up at her, patting her calf with extreme caution, throwing the dirty wrappings into the bin on the other side of the small room. “I’m going to have to touch it now, okay? It’s inevitable if I’m going to treat it.”

Emma woke to being jostled around, opening her eyes sleepily, and confused at the sight before her, was she a bat? Why was she sleeping upside down? But before she could even get used to her surroundings she was being moved again. “Wait- wha?” Her heart was racing fast, trying to remember her last moments before she fell asleep, as she was laid into someone’s arms, bridal style. She tried to move her arms, to sit herself up, but as soon as she looked up she froze up. “You’re awake.” He said, like he needed to state the obvious.   
“...Paul.” She nodded to herself, like she was confirming to herself he was actually there. Except it wasn’t actually him, was it?

He hadn’t looked down at her once, even though she couldn’t look away. “We’re almost here. Hold on now.” For some reason Emma felt like she should take hi-it’s words seriously, so her hands clawed to grip onto his shirt, clenching the material tightly between her fingers, ignoring the fact she could feel how firm he was underneath, just focusing on the road ahead. “Paul? Where are we going?” She tried once more, looking around at her surroundings, waking up the more she took in, the cool wind as they strolled along helping. It looked like one of the smaller towns in Clivesdale, not exactly a place she’d have spent most of her time when on the mainland, why would she, when there was so much more out there?  
Paul stopped in front of the steps leading up to a small yet modest house. Finally looking down at her, his eyes unreadable. “Home.”

Emma didn’t have a home, she never really had, and she knew Paul had lived in Hatchetfield, so why was he calling this place home? The fact he was walking up those steps and opened the unlocked door with ease, one that had looked like it had been recently lived in, only gave her more questions.

Emma’s hands slid from his chest as he gently lowered her to her feet, as soon as she was standing, running in the best attempt she could, to the corner of the living room, Paul standing in front of the door, just watching her.

“Paul?” She asked again, the grip against the foundations of the house, the smell of something other than Paul’s faint cologne bringing back her stubbornness. “Tell me what’s going on, right now!”

“Emma! It’s okay!” Paul smiled kindly. His hands were outstretched, as if asking her to calm down as he slowly approached, but this only made her curl into the wall more. He seemed to notice this, because with a sad smile, he dropped his hands to his middle and started to fiddle with them nervously, his tongue flecking his lips. “Emma, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Oh yeah, why wouldn’t you? You’re not Paul!” She defended. The sad look in his eyes didn’t escape her, she just hugged herself tighter.

“Emma, you know that’s not true. It’s like how, Charlotte and Sam, you remember them, they’re always performing duets together, in fact you could say they’re happier now! Bill is still protective of Alice when the hive moves around. Even Ted’s still an asshole!”  
She hated that her lips upturned in a smile at that.   
“Ask me anything! Go on! I’ll prove it to you!” He looked so determined, once again walking forward until he was at least in her personal bubble, seemingly having to remind himself to stop before he could get too close, checking his feet as if they’d betray him and move towards what his body wanted.

She sighed sadly, rolling her head, but very rarely taking her eyes off of him. “That’s not the point.”

She sidestepped to the left, her pupils dilated before she told herself he wouldn’t move yet, and walked out of the corner she’d backed herself into, suddenly feeling too surrounded. She looked around at the livi- no, as she viewed it closer she could tell she was in a dining room of some sort, with few walls, at least on the floor she’d explored, the living room‘s red carpet you’d enter into merged into the deep brown hardwood floor clearly made to reduce staining. Hell, above the table it looked like an off brand chandelier, still fancier than anything Emma had ever had.  
“How the hell did you even get this place?” She muttered, her fingers dancing on the black marble tiles of the kitchen walls.

“The family that used to live here now belong to our much bigger family, they’ve let us borrow it while we host you, until you join us, and we can find our own place together. Away from Hatchetfield and Clivesdale! What about Gua-“

“This isn’t right.”

Paul looked like he wanted to throw up, his throat bulging like he wanted to spit some words, or god forbid, a song out, his rhyme and rhythm completely disrupted, she guessed this is what happened if you interrupted them. She’d be sure to do it again. Maybe it could disconnect him from all the singing alien shit. Paul made a show of losening his tie, holding a finger up to her as if to say ‘just one moment please’, his eyes screwed shut. She waited with bated breath until his chest went back to its steady intake of breath. He opened his eyes. “If you hate it that much, there’s a few other places to choose from, but we only have a small family at the moment, and I tried to find where I thought you’d be most happy and I could keep you safest. I’m sorry I didn’t have a lot of options.”

Emma wanted to cut him off with a scream at ‘choose’, she wasn’t about to make him think infecting more people for better real estate options was a good idea, but she also didn’t want to start gagging again watching his performance. She waited for him to be finished, which took what felt like forever. He would not 🎵shuuut the fuuck uuuuup🎵  
The worst part of it all is that it truly sank in how the infection had spread to the mainland. After everything she and Paul did, it was all for nothing...  
She quickly wiped at her cheek to make sure she wasn’t crying, before clearing her throat.  
“So. How long are you planning on keeping me here, until the world falls to shit of course, I presume within a few days you’ll have the whole of the West wiped out, what then in your master plan?”

Her hands crumpled the hems of her shirt as she watched Paul pull out a chair, exasperated.  
“Do you not remember what we said? We’re going to convince people, make them happy before they join, although they’ll certainly be happier after. We’re going to bring a family at a time, and slowly, but quietly, spread out, considering our tiny town almost won against us we can’t risk being exposed too quickly, in such small numbers.” His head fell back over the edge of the chair, looking at her with a small smile.   
Emma nodded, thinking over his words. It wasn’t so much ‘the hive’ as it was Paul’s plan to go to more pacifist route. “You saved me.” She murmured it to herself, slapping her hand over her mouth, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, she wasn’t even thinking about it!

Paul twisted in his chair, looking like he was about to run to hug her, his teeth shining out.  
“No I didn’t-“ she started, jogging to the other side of the room, but not accustomed to the house, scraping her bad thigh, luckily just above the wound, but still where it was tender, against the edge of the table. Falling down from the blow to it, unable to support herself, she swore, her hands scraping on the floor as she tried to catch herself.

Paul jumped into action, springing off the chair. He came to kneel at her side, Emma slapping his hands away as they hovered over her wound. “Don’t touch me!”  
It came out a little more defensive than she meant. Quick to rectify her mistake she rolled her eyes at him. “You’ll infect it!”

Paul just raised his eyebrows at her unconvinced. “Come on, I’m taking care of it.”  
Her heart skipped a beat when she thought that sentence would end with ‘you’.

“No, just-“ she huffed, half with anger, half pain as Paul gathered her into his arms. One arm in the crook under her knees, the other supporting her back.  
“Fuck! Okay, okay! I think my fucking stitches are opening.” She panicked, looking down at her pulsing leg.  
“You’re not bleeding that much through it, I don’t think we’ll have to chop it off yet.”  
He smiled at her, a small laugh escaping through his nostrils. Her icy glare made him look down in shame.  
“Just get it over with.” She hissed, purposefully looking as far away as she could from him, her chin held high, biting down on the inside of her cheeks so as not to appear weak in front of him, like she ‘needed’ him.

“I’ll try, Emma.”  
She hated that even him saying her name made her feel things.

Paul brought her to the bathroom, setting her down on the edge of the bath as she quickly snatched her hands away from around his neck once she was steadied.  
“I’m going to have to move your leg now okay?” He told her, unpacking the first aid kit whilst keeping his eyes purely glued to hers.  
She looked away, annoyed at the intimacy of it, huffing, readying herself for the pain she knew was going to come thanks to Ted’s actions. “Get it over with Paul.”

He gently picked up her foot, slowly, trying to read her facial expressions to see how much pain she was in, hoisting it till he laid her ankle on his shoulder. Emma’s throat tightened as Paul’s face got closer to her thigh.  
“I swear to God if you get any blue shit near my wound...” she didn’t need to finish her threat, and Paul was too focused to argue with her.

Emma shivered as his hands slowly unwrapped her bandages. “Your hands are freezing.” She spoke, mostly to herself.  
“Sorry.” Paul mumbled, answering her.   
“It’s okay, just- kkhhhh!” She sucked the air through her teeth, gripping onto the sides of the bath until her knuckles were white, as the air cake into contact with her skin. “Oh fuck that stings.” Looking down from the corner of her eye she saw a little bit of spotting, but she wasn’t exactly bleeding to death.  
“Looks like the edge of your stitch has come out, luckily that’s an easy fix.” Paul smiled up at her, patting her calf with extreme caution, throwing the dirty wrappings into the bin on the other side of the small room. “I’m going to have to touch it now, okay? It’s inevitable if I’m going to treat it.”

That word made bile rise in the back of her throat, so much so she snapped at him “Fine, then I’ll do it.”  
“Nope.” He quickly ended that discussion, steadying himself in his crouching position.  
Emma just tried to focus on literally anything else other than the pain, although she’d suffered worse in recent times, or the fact that this thing wearing Paul was patching her up. But she was brought back to reality quickly as Paul started humming to himself. Even humming he was completely in tune and you could tell his voice was good. Emma didn’t want to deal with that but she could for now, even the clicking of his fingers, but not when his shoulders moved to the rhythm building up inside him. “Jesus, Paul! Fuck, my leg?!” She reminded him, grabbing onto it.  
“Sorry! Sorry Emma. It won’t happen again, I promise.” And he sounded genuinely apologetic, his hands hovering over her worried. She wished that promise was to never sing and dance again, ever, but she was a pessimist.

She was nervous as his hands were definitely more shaky, compared to his calm composure before hand, she just hoped he could control his compulsions at least until she was patched up enough to be able to make a run for it.  
She watched as he brought out the rubbing alcohol from his little kit, to clean the wound, wincing as he poured a little over the outside of her thigh, and then poured down more on the inside, she allowed that though, for her benefit purely. She drew the line when he started rubbing his own hands with it.   
Her hand dashed out, inches away from his chest. “Fuck no.” Her voice raised an octave, staring him up and down like he was mad “Just pour it on!”  
“Emma it’s all dripping down your legs, and this is only a mini bottle, I need to make sure it completely covers the wound.” He hadn’t touched her yet though.  
“Bullshit. But I’ll do it myself if it’ll get you to back off.”  
“Emma you haven’t looked at it once, can you really touch it?”

Her retort stuttered on her lips, she hadn’t noticed he’d been watching her like that, enough to notice the little things anyway. She looked at it from her peripheral like before but her stomach lurched as her finger danced down her thigh, on reflex pulling it back to her chest. Her breathing unsteady now.  
They both decided to leave it at that. And Paul very gingerly put her thigh between his two hands, his palms massaging the wound, cupping the inside of her thigh to catch the tickly little droplets that ran down her skin. 

She could feel his breath against her, on the inside of her upper thigh, she knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose so she couldn’t even yell at him about it. His fingertips ghosted against her, as if she was made of porcelain, his touch more soft than anyone’s she’d had before. And then he looked up at her with that smile, one that told her ‘everything is going to be okay, what are you worrying about silly?’ And she couldn’t see any part of him that was different than the Paul she knew.  
It was only when he kept that smile as he looked down, that she relaised how erratic her heartbeat was. Looking down she saw that her hands weren’t even shaking but vibrating, and the fact that when she tried to tell them to stop they disobeyed her only made her feel worse. She felt like she couldn’t get enough air, she couldn’t feel anything, not even her leg, it was like she was in a dream! Except this time there was no showing up to Hidgens class naked or an unending line of screaming kids at beanies, or even Jane... This was truly her worst nightmare and she was wide awake. 

“Emma!” Paul tried again.  
She screamed, her ears suddenly firing up, she could hear her wheezing, the tree branches scraping against the window, the drip of the tap, and Paul’s words. “Emma? What’s wrong? Hey!”  
She didn’t smack away his hand as it cupped her cheek. Instead her head snapped side to side, staying put in Paul’s palm but looking for something, she didn’t even know what, just an escape.  
“Hey Em, ssh ssh ssh ssh sssssh. It’s okay, the worst part’s almost over.”

When she still wouldn’t look at him he frowned, putting her foot down a moment before jumping up, which inadvertly frightened her more, just to fill up the glass left on the windowsill near the sink, it was clear this wasn’t just about re-doing some stitches.  
“Emma, drink some water, c’mon...” he offered, holding out the glass to her. Her shaky hands found it, and his hands cupped under hers just incase she couldn’t support even that weight, watching as she gulped it all down like it was the first drink she’d had in days.  
“Emma, hold my hand okay?”  
He took her hand in his own, his thumb smoothing over her knuckles as soon as he had her in his grip. He watched as her face turned to disgust, staring at their intwined fingers but not doing anything to move away.  
“Trust me, just squeeze me as hard as you can, there you go! Ah-ow! Yeah pretend I’m one of your shitty customers.” He attempted to joke with her.  
She glared at him, but he couldn’t see any menace behind her big brown eyes. “Y-You are one of my shitty customers.” 

He laughed, shaking his head with a crooked smile, glad to see she was getting back to normal. “Now trust me, you can’t hurt me, just keep squeezing.” He said as he brought the needle out.  
As soon as her eyes fell on it her head turned to the side, trying to spin a full 180 like an owl. But she was finding her snarkiness again. “I- I bet you any money I can hurt you.” But she wasn’t going to try now, in truth she didn’t know if she could even hurt him, if there was any chance of getting Paul back.

“I’ll take those odds.” He smirked, before getting his serious face back on, the change freaky to Emma, but that didn’t make her think about taking her hand out of his for a second. Through her re-stitching, gripping on as tight as she could, barely making a sound, just wanting to get it over with without seeming weak or dependent on him, that would never happen.  
Her only movements were the clamping down on Paul’s hand and the occasional twitch of her eye as he finished the stitching, clearly not as good as the nurses but she wasn’t going to be looking at it for perfection points any time soon. She was more calm through the re-bandaging. Her palms sweaty in Paul’s but not nearly as tight around, in fact she’d stopped chewing down on her lip long enough for the bleeding to stop.

“Aaaaand voila!” His right hand clapped down to his side, while Emma hadn’t let go of the other and he wasn’t about to pull back.  
She looked down slowly, breathing a sigh of relief and he watched as her manner totally changed. Quickly scouring over the fresh bandages, and she must have thought it acceptable because for the first time since he’d brought her into this house she properly breathed.   
“I need a drink.” She mumbled out, turning her leg from side to side. “Jesus, why didn’t I think of that before?!” She attempted to slap herself in the head, pulling at her hand only to find some resistance there. Looking down her arm strangely, wondering why it didn’t obey her she found the infected version of the man she once briefly imagined a future with attached to it. “Ugh!” She pulled it sharply back to her chest, cradling it like it was the limb in pain “Fucking gross!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo let me know what you think! It took a little longer than expected because I almost put half of this chapter in a different chapter instead but with a few switch-aroos I decided it worked best just like I’d written it out so it was kinda for nothing but hey I’m glad I’m okay with how it turned out, are you guys?


	3. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a long night, so now it’s time for Emma to sleep. At least, that’s what Paul thinks

“Come on, it’s late, besides, all that commotion” he emphasised with jazz hands “must have tuckered you out.” He held his hand out for her and she hid them behind her back, even though she knew if he really wanted to he could break her arms in a second and drag her all the way back to Hatchetfield.

“I-“ she straighened herself up, her chin high to him “I’m not tired.”  
One look at his face and she knew he wasn’t giving her what she wanted. She laughed annoyed, huffing and letting her head fall into her hands, only to peek up at him when she spoke.  
“I’ve basically been half asleep since when you kidnapped me, I don’t need any more sleep, I survived a job, at a goddamn coffee shop might I add, and being a student on top of that, how much sleep do you think I need?”  
But her body betrayed her, the more she said the word sleep the more she wanted to yawn, and oh god, even thinking about yawning she had to fight against the urge.

“Emma it’s nearly 2am, you should get a proper schedule going.” Paul told her, reaching his arms out for her yet again. Only this time Emma had barely any space to move back, so as she tried to shuffle away she slipped down into the bath, her legs sticking up while her middle curled in on itself in the tub.  
Paul sighed, rolling his head frustrated before wrapping his hands around her waist.  
“No! NOOO!! Get OFF me Paul!” She screamed, attempting to shove away his prying hands, tears falling without her consent as every unimaginable result to this catastrophe she was now in popped into her mind all at once.  
“Help!” She yelled, whimpering a small ‘no’ as one of his hands sealed itself around her wrist, stopping that one from lashing out. “Somebody please help me!” She knew it was no use though, they weren’t close enough for anyone to hear and she knew even though she didn’t want to admit it the hive was smart; they’d have bought a place with thick walls, somewhere where no one could hear her scream.

“Emma, _I’m_ helping you.” Paul gently tried to remind her, he couldn’t understand where she was coming from at this moment, but, even so, he decided to try something.   
He backed off.

He watched with trained eyes as she slowly stopped struggling, like a baby animal caught in a trap, realising their mother was long gone and they had to trust the person so unlike them, so much bigger and stronger, or die. There was a small moment of peace between them, Emma catching her breath as she tried to raise herself with her flat palms.   
“What are you doing?” She asked, only more confused by the searching look on his face.  
“I... I don’t know...”

It must have been a massive anomaly for a member of the hive to not know what they should be doing, she thought, because he looked like a broken android right now, his hands shaking, eyes trained downwards burning a hole into the floor, as his cheeks puffed out, trying to think. Well she wasn’t gonna waste her opportunity.  
Quickly she re-began attempting to escape from the tub, her heart going faster when he changed from his apprehensive look to watching her again. She only responded by staring daggers right back at him, her eyes darting back and forth between him and the tub. The one she couldn’t seem to get out of no matter how hard she tried. “Come on!” She grunted lowly to herself, trying one last thing and attempting to use her legs to hoist herself out of there, but her leg was still recovering and it only made her worse. “Shit.” She breathed, her cheeks dusted pink with effort as she relaxed her muscles yet again.

“Now can I help you out?”  
Her head snapped back up to his. She didn’t know if the fact he didn’t seem smug at all about this made her less angry or more, it wasn’t human like of anyone to not want the satisfaction of an ‘I-told-you-so’ at least that’s what she thought, even though she hated the saying.

She wasn’t about to open her arms to him, in fact crossing them over her chest to prove a point, but she didn’t do anything to stop him as his hands undid her stubborn position, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck, his own sliding around her lower back, hoisting her up to the rim of the tub. But he didn’t stop there, instead in one movement he jiggled her up so she was wrapped around his middle. A squeal flying from her mouth as her legs scrambled to cling onto his hips, afraid of falling even though this position terrified her equally. “Paul, what are you doing?!” She asked, her chin peering over his shoulder. One hand was nestled on the back of her neck, his fingers undoing strands of her hair from her now messy style, his other supporting her lower half. “I’m taking you to bed. You’re tired.” He stated, matter of factly.

“Paul, I’m not-“ but again, like when she was a child and begged for five more minutes, as soon as her mouth opened a yawn flew from her lips, her hand slid further from Paul’s collar to cover them. “Yeah right.” He snorted, closing the bathroom door behind him and turning off the light.  
Emma bit her lip. “At least let me walk.” But he ignored her, or just knew she was physically too tired to do so, even if mentally that’s all she wanted to do, she at least had some power over him then. Instead she buried her face into his shoulder, trying to stifle any more yawns, or hell, even cries, as the gentle bouncing of their bodies as he walked down the hall lulled her into a further coma like state. She watched the halls of her new ‘home’ pass her by as she was brought to the final door, the bedroom.

Paul flicked the switch of the dim fairy lights around the room, before easily setting her down on the bed. This time she didn’t scurry as far away from him as possible though, this did something to his insides, even if he knew she was just too tried to prove a futile point. He tried not to think about her eyes burning into the back of his neck and the way it made a blue blush spread down his chest, there wasn’t anything wrong with his body was there? As he opened a couple of wardrobes till he found what he was looking for.   
Taking out a pile he placed them softly next to Emma. “Some pyjamas.” He informed her, smiling shyly down at her small figure. “I didn’t know what you’d prefer so I got you a few options.” He looked at her a moment more before shaking his head, realising what he was doing wrong. “Uh, there’s an en-suite, erm right there, so you can get changed. I’ll be right outside if you need any help, with your leg and all...” he trailed off.

Emma stuffed the pile into her arms, not wanting to waste more time picking them out if it meant spending a second longer with ‘it’. “I’ll be fine, thanks.” She spat out, walking to the small bathroom, her leg feeling much more relaxed now than it was 10 minutes ago. She promptly slammed the door in Paul’s face, locking it, excited there was a lock. Immediately she looked for an alternative exit, but her shoulders fell when there was only a tiny window right at the top of the room, one that didn’t even open all the way, she probably would have had to squish one of the large coffee cups at Beanies to get it through that hole. 

Giving up on that idea, unless she wanted to knock down an entire wall to escape, she went to undo her hair in the mirror, at least that released some tension from the sides of her head as her hair fell past her shoulders, brushing through it with her fingers. She sighed placing all those pins and bobbles onto the side of the sink before tuning to look through the pile of clothes Paul and handed to her. She had to wonder if these belonged to a previous owner or the hive had bought, or even stolen them, just moments before when they had their new plan in store for her, none of them looked particularly worn. In the end she chose the longest top she could find, that was in a faded green, the welcome sign for Clivesdale printed on it, and some thick ‘Thumper’ bottoms from Bambi, in a pale blue. It’s not the usual thing she would wear but she didn’t have anything that belonged to her any more, apart from the Beanies uniform she arrived in and the resources from P.E.I.P. Plus anything to hide as much skin from ‘paul’ as possible, was good for her

Realising she had to leave the bathroom sooner or later, and not wanting to give Paul another reason to pick her up, she truly despised that, she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out. She forgot, even in just few minutes, what it was like to have his eyes on her, those that looked no different from the Paul she knew. She ran to the bed, tucking the covers under her chin and glaring at him, now donning his own silky silver, button up pyjamas. “So, go away then, I’m going to sleep like you wanted.”

She wasn’t expecting him to crawl up next to her, throwing half the covers back so he could get in too.   
“Wha-? No!... ugh.” She didn’t know what was going on but for once, she felt too tired to argue. Instead, she took all the pillows she could find and built a wall between them, her eyes occasionally making contact with his and he did nothing to stop her, but just watched her work. Quickly done she threw herself onto her back, staring at the ceiling, too afraid to close her eyes because they were stinging now. 

No, she didn’t want to cry again today, she couldn’t cry, she... she was crying. They were soft cries, her face mournful and her lips pouting like they always did when she cried, she just hoped her fort was tall enough so Paul couldn’t see over it. But unfortunately that didn’t help in the hearing department. She wiped her face, listening intently to her cries to try and quieten them down, only for her meditation of sorts to be ruined by Paul.  
“You know... there’s no pain in the hive.”

She didn’t think he got the point of why she was crying. Instead she threw herself to her side, facing away from him of course, her tears now pooling onto her pillow, dampening her cheek. Her tears only flowed faster as she felt the pillows removed from her back, listening to Paul throwing them to the foot of the bed. She didn’t do anything as his hand slid around her middle, caging around her. She moved his palm from where it settled on her stomach and instead it rested on the bed, though.   
She screwed her eyes shut tight as the worst thing of the night happened, when he started to sing to her.  
It was some sort of lullaby she’d never heard, and his voice was that of an angel.

Paul wanted Emma to be happy. He wanted her to be happy with him, in the hive, but she had to be happy before she decided to join too. He thought singing to her might help calm her down, after all it was never just the hive who enjoyed singing, and it made his heart swell knowing Emma was a fantastic singer even without the hives influence. His words began to shift into a soft hum, his hand moving upward on the bed just enough so that his thumb could draw patterns on her forearm as he tried to soothe her.

She felt conflicted, trapped, and worst of all guilty. Because part of her wanted to turn right over and bury her face in his chest, to have him sing in her ear so sweetly, even if she had to give up and be in the hive to be happy again. She _wanted_ paul.

... But not like this

_“I love you, Emma.”_

And there, the waterworks sprung again. She buried her face in her cupped hands, trying to shield her eyes from this nightmare, but she couldn’t hide her eyes, cover her ears, and re-build that wall, metaphorically and in reality, all at the same time. So instead her body did the only other thing it could, and cried in her despair. 

He opened his mouth, the little pop of his lips telling her senses that he was going to speak again, but before he could she rolled over to look into his eyes. 

“I want the real Paul back.”

There was no tone for debate there, even with her sparkling wet eyes, no sign of weakness in that statement.  
And as she turned back over she felt his arms revert back away from her, and with that final touch she eventually fell to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think as always!!


	4. Run and hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma makes a run for it

When Emma woke up the first thing she noticed was she had no idea where she was, but she didn’t make a noise, something inside her told her that would be a bad idea. And as she looked around her surroundings, her fingers gripping onto the black bedsheets she remembered everything that had led up to her being in this strangers bed that was now apparently ‘hers’. The second thing she noticed was that Paul was nowhere to be seen, she couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing, especially if he was the pacifist of the group and now wasn’t there to protect h- ‘nah fuck that’ she interrupted her own thoughts; ‘I’ve survived this long, I got back to Clivesdale all on my own, I’ll be fine, nay, better off without him!’   
So after a quick brainstorming session she finally stretched her leg, testing it. Luckily it hadn’t cramped up at night, since she wriggled around constantly in sleep, she could have used this as an excuse for now being fully on Paul’s side of the bed if she had noticed she was, not that she did. Paul certainly did though, as he walked into the room with a towel still rubbing at his dripping hair, all dressed up in his suit again.

“Ah! Emma! You’re awake.” He beamed at her like this was just a normal morning for the two of them, not seeming to notice to shock and guilt on Emma’s face, and the fact she looked like she as about to pounce and make a running jump out of the window any moment. “Are you hungry? I’ll go make you something, we can have breakfast in bed if you’d like?” Paul offered, sitting down on Emma’s side of the bed, closest to the door now, as she had reverted fully to his side.

“...Actually” she felt this plan might work, even if not, she was still testing his boundaries. “I wanted to go for a walk.” She unfurled herself from the covers, so she could get ready for the day.

Paul looked at her with a soft smile, sympathetic. “Are you sure your leg’s feeling up to it?”

Emma stood up from the bed, flipping him off with a stern look before tucking the sheets in, she had to make him think she was getting used to this, dealing with the situation. Paul just seemed happy she was back to her usual self then. “Great, I’ll go with you.”

Emma froze in her tracks, her fingers tapping on the side drawer. “Alone.” She emphasised.

“No can do.”

This made Emma’s blood run cold, she rubbed her arm through the material of her sleeping shirt, her eyes stuck on the bed, her plan already falling apart. Paul sighed, attempting to walk over to her, he stopped when she backed up, still not looking at him, but her shaky breath from his movements was all the confirmation he needed that she still needed time.   
“Look, Emma” he backed up, his arm in an opening gesture to let her pass him. She did so, shuffling to the wardrobe to find some clothes to put on. “It’s either go out with me or not at all.” Even though she was harshly focused on peering through the clothes he could see the slight sparkle to her eyes, she was crying... he sighed, bringing his hand up to his face and running it through. “I’m sorry, but the alternative is the hive thinks I can’t control you, so they’ll all take matters into their own hands.” He promised solemnly.

Emma ran into his arms, quicker than he could see coming, burying her face in his chest. “No! Please Paul! Don’t let them take me. Just stay with me instead! I promise I-I’ll-“  
After the initial shock of her touch Paul wrapped his arms around her, strong enough that he slightly lifted her up with the motion. “Emma ssh ssh. I promise it’s just the two of us, and I won’t let the others get in between that, soon we’ll all be a big happy fami-“

Paul fell to the ground.

And standing above him, was Emma with the glass candlestick she’d found in the wardrobe, thank god for the paranoia of American citizens and their hidden weapons.

Emma kicked him slightly, a grunt from the adrenaline of her situation calling for it, before deciding he was out cold, flat on his face his mouth was all smushed up, but she could still hear his quiet breathing and there was no blue blood seeping from the back of his head where’d she’d hit him, so he was still alive. Emma dropped the stick and crawled down to him, patting his pockets up and down, looking for his wallet to get a bus out of here when she found something better. **Her phone!** Yes! Yes yes yes, she couldn’t believe he’d snagged it from the hospital before he’d left with her. Grabbing it she pushed a chair underneath the door handle of the bedroom once she was out of there, but not having a key to lock the front door she left it. Screaming Bloody Mary, she ran down the road till she came across her neighbours. Banging on the door she yelled for them. “Please let me in! I’m being held hostage next door! You need to call the police!” Oh, what was she saying, the police couldn’t help with this. But at least it made her sound more serious for the woman in her 50s who timidly opened the door with what looked like her husband behind her.

Emma was never one for pda with people she didn’t know that well, but as soon as the door was closed she flung herself into that woman’s arms, crying her eyes out. “Thank you! Thank you so much oh my god, you have no idea- you’ve just saved my life! You-!” She looked up, slightly embarrassed but honestly at this point she couldn’t care less.   
The woman looked quite confused, but she had a motherly feel that just was so calming to Emma. “Oh, dear.” She cooed, stroking Emma’s hair as the husband whispered “I’ll make some tea.” To which his wife nodded. She stroked her hair further “You poor, lost, little lamb.”

Once Emma had stopped crying she wiped her face with the back of her hand, at those words Emma asked her something she’d been wondering to herself. “Uhm, where exactly am I? I mean I know, or god, maybe he took me that far...” she shook her head of that thought, “I’m still in Clivesdale, right?”  
The gentle lady nodded back “Yes dear, right at the edge of town.”

‘At the edge?’ He brought her all the way to the outskirts of the city? Sure that meant it was more secluded but he must have walked miles from the hospital to get here. But that also meant she was further away from Hatchetfield and closer to getting out of that area for good. Emma cleared her throat once more, before producing her phone from her pyjama pants pockets. “Here” she handed it to the lady “it can’t call anyone but could you use the number to call colonel Schaffer-“ she pointed to her name on the device “on your phone, I just need to use your restroom.”

The ginger woman looked at Emma confused, before taking the phone gently out of her hands and folding over it with their own. Emma just presumed it was because she was an older woman, and looking at the decor of the house she didn't seem to be very up to speed with technology. "We should call your family, they'll help you out."

Emma just nodded, finally breathing she realised how her mouth felt metallic and that her head was pounding, probably due to all that running from her leg. And with a quick peek behind the yellowing lace curtains, not seeing a frantic, frothing blue at the mouth Paul outside, she felt safe enough to find the restroom, do her business and upon returning lean back on a rocking chair set in the corner of their kitchen and with her hand on her head closed her eyes for a minute.

Her peace was interrupted only a minute or so later, as the greying gentleman with white whiskers set down a little teacup in front of her with shaking hands. Emma helped grab the cup from his hands, taking it from him and looking up at him with a smile, he was definitely getting on in age. "Thank you." She smiled tiredly up at him.  
"Ah, it's only a cup 'o tea doll." He said with his gruff accent, not matching his sweet little old man frame at all, Emma nodded back, but she wasn't just thanking him for the tea. She couldn't really bring herself to drink it, her throat tight with nausea as she waited for some words from peip or hell, even her family. She was eternally grateful Janes husband and kids didn't live in Hatchetfield and that her parents were in the Bahamas for their anniversary the week of the meteor and all the shit that followed. Truthfully she didn't even know if they knew if she was dead or alive yet. She'd heard Schaffer talking to some of her 'bodyguards' who she knew were really ether to make sure she didn't escape a) incase she was infected and b) incase she decided to go telling the whole world about what had happened in her tiny town. Apparently peip had refused to say if she was dead or not to her immediate family, some sort of protocol, higher up still debating whether they could tell her family especially since she revealed she wasn’t close to them or dependent on them at all. And even though she despised her parents at times and the way they treated her, their daughter, even if she knew she was never their favourite, she'd fucking g l a d l y move in with them this minute if it meant not having to stay with the alien that still called itself Paul.

The woman, who Emma was now affectionately naming 'Aunt Jemima' in her head walked back in with her husband... Err, Uncle Sam. "Well we've made the call and you'll be happy to know you'll be reunited in absolutely no time!" Jemima grinned, clasping her hands together in front of her dirty apron. "Ahh, thanks." Emma breathed a sigh of relief, making a cheersing gesture at them. She excepted them to nosy on and ask her about what had happened, hell, if a crazy woman had demanded to come into her home screaming that she'd be a prisoner in her neighbours house she'd have a few fuckin questions of her own. But instead, they both smiled and nodded politely, she watched as the husband, Sam, put his arm around his wife's shoulders before walking off into the next room, and closing the door behind them. With a sense of guilt since they'd been so homely to her, but still having slight trust issues from the past week or so, Emma slowly tiptoed to the door of the kitchen, gently poking it and praying it didn't creak. She could almost faint with relief when she found they hadn’t locked her in there like some witches from Hansel and Gretel, she was too suspicious of people. She laughed quietly to herself before sitting down in that rocking chair and closing her eyes again...

Her eyes flew open as she heard a light, rhythmic, rapping at the door. Her first thought was she must have fallen asleep and that's why whoever was at the door, either peip or someone from her life, seemed to get there so quick, but her heart sank and she felt bile rise up the in the back of her throat as she looked to the clock and saw that only 3 minutes had passed since she sat down. No, no one in her contacts could have gotten there that fast, not even peip with all their efforts and resources. She flung herself from the chair, trying to be as quiet as possible; she heard the door open, trying to listen to any conversation that might take place, while leaning down to stop the creaky chair from moving. As she placed her hands on it, it soon halted and slowly Emma backed up... into something squishy. Her squeal at the shock feel of it quickly turned into a scream as she tried to turn around, yet the insanely strong hands of the old man wrapped around her shoulders tight, and dragged her to the living room, no matter how hard she was digging her heels into the floor. "No..." She choked, as the swinging door flew open and she saw that sweet old lady smiling brightly next to a frustrated looking Paul. "NO!!"

She tried to push away from the old man, hitting his chest with her fists, then stopping for a second when realising that wasn't her best shot, they were so much more powerful than their human counterparts had ever been. So she sprung from his arms, like a mouse caught in a trap, she surveyed her exits. She was on one side of the kitchen island, and Paul the other, she faked left to right, Paul following suit, a scared look in her eyes but a mad one in his own.

"Emma, dear. If you'll just listen." Emma couldn't bear to listen, not to the words of that thing that had taken over that poor sweet lady. With a grunt she pushed herself away from the table and made a run for it, taking bigger strides than she could ever hope for, especially when Paul towered her by 13 inches and her leg was fucked up. She made it to the hallway door before Paul wrapped his arms around her in a teddy bear hug and easily lifted her off the ground. "No!" She cried, kicking at his legs, desperately pounding onto his arms, wrapped around her middle. Paul seemed to huff a little, but he still said his goodbyes to the couple with ease before dragging her out the front door, her still lifted in his arms so there was really very little resistance.  
She kept screaming, even though she knew it would do no good, as he walked with her back to that house. 

"Emma." Paul warned, slipping his hand over her mouth, firm but not tight. Emma cried out in rage, trying not to let her tears blind her, in case she did manage to make an escape. After a few tries, mouthing around at his hand while trying to scream bloody murder at him, she found her pound of flesh and sunk her teeth into his hand.

"Aah!" Paul hissed, pulling that hand away on reflex. It was probably lucky for Emma he wasn’t bleeding that close to her mouth. But she knew it didn't matter, no one in close enough proximity would care about her screams, and by the time she'd bit Paul they were already in the front garden to the house. Paul jiggled her up in his arms once more as they got to the porch stairs. Emma clung on to the white bannister for dear life, meaning Paul lost his grip and ended up in what could have looked like a scene from a comedy skit if it wasn't for the pain clear on her face, pulling at her ankles as her nails raked away at the paint. Eventually Paul gave up with that, crawling up her body to get to her hands without letting her go, and yanking her hands away, after only a few seconds of a struggle. She gave one last, petulant, scream before the door was closed and locked, with her inside. Her and an exasperated Paul.

...  
....?  
...she waited a few seconds for him to say something, still audibly sobbing but she didn't have any more tears left to cry, her fists were balled at her side, her pyjama pants ripped at the bottom, and with Paul not even looking at her. That scared her, he'd been keeping his eyes on her like a stalker this entire time. Then suddenly  
"Are you fucking stupid?" His tone was calm but his words were not. Emma's body only told her one thing as his head snapped up to her. _Run._

"Are you-"

Emma screamed, she didn't mean to but at this point her body was reacting all on its own and her mind had no say in the matter, if it did it’d at least be wondering if it was a similar situation to what it was like, being infected, a passenger to your own body.

Before she knew it that screaming had turned into running, she was bounding all the way up the stairs, and through her heavy heartbeat, she could hear the footsteps of Paul following close behind her. She grabbed whatever was closest, something on a shelf as she passed, feeling the vibrations from Paul's running on the wooden floor beneath her, and threw it blindly behind her. He kept following, but he was just a hand away from stopping her as she literally skidded onto the bathroom floor tiles, slamming the door shut and scrambling to lock it, knowing it would have a lock. 

Falling against the door she listened out for him, before thinking better of it and getting the scale and laundry basket, the two heaviest things she could find in there and shoving them against the door. If she was in her right mind she knew it wouldn't have done any good, but she'd gone through too much in such a short span of time. She crawled as far away from the door as possible, her back leaning against a small crook between the toilet and sink, one she could just shimmy in. She hugged her knees to her chest, hey eyes stapled to the door and for what felt like the millionth time in the last 24 hours, began to bawl her eyes out all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we keep ending with her crying and such but tbh if you were in this situation would you not cry too
> 
> As always thanks for reading and comments are greatly appreciated!


	5. Apologies and decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part is Paul’s POV for the end of last chapter :-)  
> ~~~  
> Emma and Paul have a talk after she tried to escape him

Paul eventually managed to get Emma safe inside, quickly shutting the door behind him to make sure the hive wasn’t following. He couldn’t believe after he’d tried to explain to her, that she’d ran off like that without him!   
“Are you fucking stupid?”

He heard himself speaking but couldn’t catch himself in time. He just, ugh, he was so frustrated. But he was trying not to be.  
‘Are you still scared I’m going to infect you without your permission?’ Is what he would have asked. Instead he only got two words in when he was cut off by a strangled scream coming from her throat. This made him jump, looking up at her to see what had startled her so, when he saw nothing but fear as she stared directly at _him._

Oh god. This wasn’t what was meant to happen! “Emma-“ he tried softly but she wasn’t listening, instead she was screaming and now, as he reached his hand out to comfort her, she was running.

He followed up the stairs, jogging after her with a lump in his throat. “Emma, wait!” He tried again. And once more he opened his mouth only to be cut off by a phone book being tossed directly into his stomach. He grasped onto it, the wind being knocked out of him, but it only slowed him down for a second. A second too long though; his hand reached out to her but the door to the bathroom was slammed in his face before he could get there in time. He rested his fist against the door, along with his forehead as guilt bubbled up in his stomach. If he was in any better mind he would have been concerned at this, as negative feelings like guilt were not allowed in the hive.

“Emma, please. I’m sorry.” He called out to her in a sing songy voice, knowing the door was thin enough and with her body lain against it she should have heard him, but she didn’t. He leaned back as he heard some scuttling, his lip upturning in a smile as he thought she was about to unlock the door, only to hear more things being shoved against the wooden panel, and Emma’s breath quietening like she was further away. He slumped against the door defeated, when he heard her crying again. He didn’t like to hear her crying, she was always so strong, so he knew he had done something terribly wrong to make her cry so much in so little time. So quietly standing up so as not to alarm her further, he decided he’d leave her alone for now.

~~~~~~~

Emma eventually calmed down enough to realise he hadn’t followed her, and she can’t stay in there forever. It had been so quiet the past few hours part of her hoped he’d gone out but she knew it wasn’t likely. It took her a moment of convincing her body to move, like when you’ve woken from a deep sleep, chanting for her legs to co-operate, and eventually she was up.

With shaking hands, shaking the reminder of that seemingly sweet old man out of her head, she removed her ineffective barricade, further making her wonder why Paul hadn’t just barged right in and dragged her out with a fistful of hair, and slowly began to unlock the lock and twist the door knob open. She looked around slowly, surveying the empty hallway before telling herself it was safe to leave. She closed the door behind her, keeping her hand on the knob just in case he or the other infected were waiting behind a door, but when still nothing happened she decided to get it over with, and with a sigh, let go of the door and walked down stairs. 

She saw Paul before he, her. He was just sitting on the couch, his back straight and staring at the black tv screen, his hands fiddling with each other. She took one more step, clearing her throat to alert her presence to him. His head shot up and immediately she looked down, she couldn’t bear to look at those too blue eyes right now. 

“Emma!” 

Well now she was looking at him. He has sounded so... pleased? No. Relieved. It caught her off guard. Her eyes flickered down to his, her hand loosening its grip on the bannister as she gave him a small smile, without even meaning to.

Paul looked her up and down quickly, she seemed okay. He could still spot the slight puffiness to her eyes and it made blue bile rise up in his throat. He quickly swallowed it down, not wanting to scare her off again, and jumped off the sofa. “You must be starving, you haven’t eaten all day.” He could sense she was as glad for the change of subject as he was, thank god. “Here.” He gestured for her to follow him downstairs. “I’ll make you something. Or even just a coffee!”

“No, Paul, that’s...”

But he’d already flicked the switch of the kettle and that sad look in his eyes, like a kicked puppy, just made her resign to letting him do this one thing for her. She nodded, dragging her legs all the way down the stairs and following him to the kitchen, sitting down on a stool at the counter. 

Paul quietly got two cups out, passing Emma one and keeping one in his hands to stop them from fiddling, so now he was biting his lip off.

“Thanks.” Emma gave him a small smile, trying to open herself up to him just a little, this atmosphere couldn’t be what they had forever, she didn’t want that. “Well, at least I know this one won’t be poisoned.” she tried to joke, giving a small laugh. 

“What do you mean?” Paul asked, pouring the coffee into her cup.  
“Well.” She turned the warm mug around in her hands “Just because that couple from before,” they both looked down at the mention of them “they offered me tea. Probably a good thing I didn’t drink it right? Trying to trick me into joining the hive or whatever.” She looked up at Paul like he was going to apologise for them, seeing as they were ‘a family’ or whatever, but instead found a searching look on Paul’s face, before he shook his head.

“That tea wasn’t infected.” He said with a confused look towards her.

Emma was more confused though, setting her cup down. “What?” Uncomfortable, she rolled her shoulders before looking back at Paul, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “But... _they_ were infected, so why wouldn’t they try to infect me?” She asked him, unknowingly shifting toward him in her chair, in her curiousuty.

Paul leaned down closer with his elbows on the counter, reciprocating. “They just wanted to make sure you were okay before I could come pick you up, they know now we’re only supposed to infect people who want it.” He looked pointedly at her, in a way that made her wriggle uncomfortably in her chair. “Maybe you just outsmart them, thinking of brilliant schemes like that.” 

Emma hated the fact that that small compliment made her heart flip.

“Besides, I just asked them, and we can’t really lie to each other.” He states, taking a sip of his black coffee, even though he didn’t really need to. He liked the taste, and he liked being able to share even small moments like this with Emma, it would get her to trust him more anyway.

“You can... talk to each other?” Emma asked nervously, unsure what to think of thsi new information, if anything it would be useful if she was going to find a cure.  
Paul just raised an eyebrow at her, she wasn’t sure why at first, but then he spoke. “What? You’re talking to me right now.” _He was teasing her._

Emma gave him a pitiful chuckle, happy to have some sense of normality in this weird conversation with an alien. She took a sip of her own coffee, praying it would give her some strength before she brought this up. “That family.” She eventually spat out.

Paul put his mug down, sitting on the stool next to her now he sensed an actual conversation happening.  
Emma turned just a little so she could face him. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?” She looked up at him, eyes drooping and figure small. Paul was unsure, his hand wavered in the air, feeling like he should reach out to her.   
“I...” his palm slowly made its way to her shoulder and he didn’t know why she didn’t slap it away. So he continued “I don’t understand.”

Emma sighed, her head falling to her hands. Her body responding positively to the fact that Paul was now rubbing her shoulder, her mind too tired to consider the consequences of this and what it meant.   
Paul just kept stroking, she looked so tired.

“You brought me here, somewhere no one would be able to come save me while you tried to convince me to join the party.” She explained, her mouth slightly covered by her hand but her eyes free to stare at him. “So you needed to infect anyone close enough that I could run to...”

Paul was starting to understand now.

“So, it’s my fault. That poor couple, they seemed to sweet...” Emma decided to bury her face in that mug agasin, willing her lips to shut up. She couldn’t tell all this to Paul, she shouldn’t be confiding in him like this. This wasn’t her Paul!

Paul very slowly tried something. His thumb crawled up to the base of Emma’s neck, and he was massaging it, while he gave her shoulder the softest squeeze he could, understanding how easily she could feel trapped now. 

“Emma I promise they wanted to join.” He tried, fazed when she turned her head away from him, getting out of her seat and thus his hold. His hands felt empty. Watching her pace around the kitchen, coffee abandoned.  
“Phillip has arthritis, Margaret used to dream of being a ballet dancer, but Phil always had two left feet.” Paul looked up to the ceiling with a smile, like he was recalling a tale he’d been told a million times.  
Emma looked over to him, for a moment confused until she realised that must have been the elderly couples true names. She walked back over carefully, wanting to know more but still weary.

Paul looked toward her once she was close enough he could feel her knee bumping his chair if she swayed. He smiled once more. “It’s actually pretty romantic. They’re happy, and I promise, they wanted this.” He grabbed her hands now, quickly in his excitement, not really thinking.

Emma tried covertly to pull them away, to test his grip, an uncomfortable groan settling in her throat but she resigned to it when Paul didn’t make any other move to pull her closer. She took a breath and decided to put on the same face as when he grabbed her that morning at beanies, when she didn’t believe him about the apocalypse, thought he was just another loon with a caffeine addiction. 

Paul smiled, but it wasn’t like his other, too big, fake ones, this one held sympathy, something Emma didn’t miss. “Emma, it’s not your fault.”  
She blinked rapidly, taking in the fact Paul was seeming more human then she’d seen since they’d been ‘reuinted’.

“Emma no matter how much you want to blame yourself, none of this is your fault. You’re probably the strongest person I know.”

Emma could feel her heart beating out of her chest and swore at it for betraying her like this.

But Paul mistook her look of betrayl and holding back as something else. He let go of her hands, but willed that she not move further away. “Emma, I’m sorry for shouting at you before.”

This really made Emma’s eyes widen, what was this? Some sort of hive trick?! But looking at him she could tell he was being nothing less than truthful. The look in his eyes was almost pained.

“I just-“ again Paul stumbled on his words, it made him feel sick to his core but he handled it, cupping Emma’s face for support.

She blinked in surprise but didn’t pull back. She had no idea what was going on right now.

“I was just so worried. I had to convince them not to call the rest of the hive, that I could handle it, well, you; although now I know no one could really do that.” He was throwing up words again, just millions of them falling from his mouth without his permission. He was getting the sweats, not understanding why he couldn’t control his lyrics, but one squeeze of Emma’s hand on top of his instantly calmed him. He took a breath, to look down at Emma properly. His palm was cupping her right cheek, her hand on top of his, stroking his knuckles as she stared silently at him. Well now he had to finish his thoughts. “I just, I shouldn’t have sworn at you and-“

“Why?” Emma asked.

Paul stuttered, searching her eyes once more. His other hand came up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, shaky. “Well because you don’t deserve to be shouted at and-“

“No.” She stated simply.

All this stopping and starting of words was making Paul feel weak. Yes. It definitely wasn’t holding Emma like this and having her hold him back by just resting her hand on his own...

“Why didn’t you just give up? Let the hive infect me, or fuck, even infect me as soon as we got back, you could have kicked down that door in a heartbeat.” She asked, wondering.

Paul seemed to take a moment to think this over, his hand still on her cheek and he could feel the breath puffing from it, watch the sparkle in her eyes, hear the tiny noises from her throat as she swallowed, all minuscule things that really emphasised how alive she was. Finally he full upon an answer.   
“Well, some things are worth it.” 

Those words echoed his on the first day at Beanies she actually got to talk to him. She could see in his eyes consciously he had no idea of that, but maybe that was a good thing, that something in his subconscious was breaking through. And that did it for Emma, she was decided. Paul was still in there somewhere, and she was going to get him back.


	6. Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma decides to start her plan and what better way to begin her testing to bring Paul back than start with research on the hive, and who better to ask than Paul?

Emma dried herself off after her bath, a towel wrapped around her body and one tangling with her hair. It was easier to take baths with her leg, plus she had an excuse for being in there longer. She needed time to think. After her exchange with Paul just an hour ago, she decided she'd test her hypothesis that interacting with a human, such as herself, and being away from the hives influence for an extended amount of time might help make him human again. Emma presumed that might not be all she had to do but it was a start. She opened the door just slightly, peeking her head out the corner just to make sure he wasn't there. "Paul?" She called out, her towel stilling against her hair as she listened.  
"Yes?" She heard called back from clearly downstairs. Phew  
"Never mind." She followed it up with, so he wouldn't come check on her. She emerged from the door and tiptoed down the corridor to the bedroom, finding some clothes and laying them out on the bed. She had to at least get him to trust her a bit more, she'd just tried to run away this morning, if she asked for a chemistry kit he'd be sure to raise some questions. So for now she'd be as human as possible around him, and around him as much as possible.

Emma's hair was still damp, and yet to find a hairdryer, she put it up into a ponytail as she walked downstairs. "Paul?" She started, turning her head towards the kitchen as she'd heard some pots clanging before. "Have you seen a-?"  
Her eyes immediately were drawn in by the dark chocolate cake on the sparkling white surface. She walked towards it, her stomach rumbling at the first sight of food since yesterday.

Paul walked in after she’d beckoned him, waiting for her to ask him a question but the seeing her eyeing up the plate, he smiled, relived she liked it.

“Is this for me?” She asked, picking it up delicately between her fingers. It had a purple flower on it, made form icing it looked like.

Paul nodded, eagerly waiting for her to take a bite. “You hadn’t eaten breakfast and we’re well past lunch, I was hoping you might like some sugar.”

Emma covered her mouth as she took a bite, the fondant melting in her mouth. “Well you got that right.” Realising how hungry she really was she didn’t hesitate to find another angle and take her second bite, moaning in appreciation. The little flower on top tasted of Parma violets, which luckily she liked.

“What were you asking, sorry?” Paul interrupted. Not wanting to just sit there watching her eat, he thought she might not like that very much.

“Uhhh hairdryer.” Emma responded, putting the slice down and watching Paul.

“I think it's in the electrics cupboard, I'll go have a look.” He offered, twirling his back to her in a way that was too dancey but still didn’t stop Emma from stopping him.

“No!”

Emma needed him with her, she had to test her hypothesis and she didn't want to risk that even a moment away might set him back to being just another slave to the hive again. But she quickly realised what she'd done, and Paul looked pretty confused. Emma cleared her throat then clarified "You’ve got to try some, it not fair I get the whole slice." Well it wasn't as much 'clarified' as trying to make an excuse, but Paul played along.

He gave a small chuckle, his head looking down and elbows resting on the countertop. Emma felt like him smiling at her like that wasn’t fair.

“Emma, there is a whole cake left. I didn't make just a slice, I think that would have actually been harder.” He joked. He went to the drawers by his knees, bringing out the tray with the medium sized chocolate cake out, he cut himself a small slice and nibbled at it, not really needing to eat but wanting to stay in her company.

Emma didn’t say anything, she smiled politely as she finished off her slice, banishing the pestering thought of ‘Oh, he made this for me.’

“We don't have a lot of actual food in.” Paul started, pushing the rest of his slice, which was definitely more than half, towards Emma, who picked up the fork and picked at it. “We can order some online shopping tonight.” He finished decidedly.

Emma piped up, pointing her fork at him as she chewed. “Can I go shopping with you instead?”

Paul looked down and his smile dropped almost immediately. He rapped his thumb on the counter before sighing. “Emma...”

“Please? I promise I won't go out of your sight! Besides, I'd much rather stick with you then risk the hive finding me.” Emma reasoned. She needed Paul to trust her and the thought of being cooped up for however long it took for her to get him back or for a much worse fate to happen was just nauseating to Emma.

Paul was still unsure. He didn’t know if this was going to be another trick or not, the only time he thought he was getting closer to her, her hug, had been followed by him being bludgeoned in the head. Outside in public even he wouldn’t stand a chance against that many people if Emma screamed ‘kidnapper!’

It was easy to read his face like usual, and he didn’t seem to be budging on the thought of letting her outside. She groaned at him, rolling her eyes. But not wanting him to take that as another sign of her defensiveness she shifted over by his side and laid her hand flat on top of his, it stilling on the counter under the very light touch. She was still kind of wavering over his skin, cold but Paul had been quite naturally cold too, she remembered, so she sucked it up and slapped her hand down on his, even intertwining the tips of their fingers together.  
“You can't keep me on a leash and if I don't go outside soon I'm gonna go crazy in here. I can't stay trapped for long, Hatchetfield was bad enough I don't think I could survive just being in this house.” She told him truthfully. His snort surprising her.

Paul stuttered before speaking like he wasn’t prepared for what he was going to say, a good sign for Emma until- “M-Maybe we should just hold hands whenever we're out then.”

One blessing to Emma was that Paul also seemed to feel even awkward from that ‘joke’. She took her hand off his, slightly alarmed but as he desperately tried to laugh it off she decided she’d do the same, at least to make him feel more confident in his decision making; like deciding to make that joke, and deciding to let her out, with his supervision. 

She walked away from him, throwing herself onto the sofa and damning herself as she was a little too careless with her leg, not letting it show though.

Just like she hoped he came to sit down next to her, placing himself not quite on the other end of the sofa but giving her some distance. He looked over to her like she was going to say something. But truthfully Emma didn’t know what to do right now. She quickly searched through her mind. Right, when performing an experiment what’s the first thing you do? Well she’s gathered her equipment, her, Paul and a lack of the rest of the hive, what was the next thing? Research! She turned to face him, lifting her leg crossed on the couch, the other having a safe footing on the ground as she leaned her elbow on a sofa cushion tucked under her chin.

”So.” She began, narrowing her eyes at him. He straightened to attention.  
“What’s the plan for today then?” 

Once again Paul didn’t understand Emma. Things would be much easier when she was part of the hivemind. “Ah... I don’t..?” He started confused. Emma widened her eyes in shock at his further lack of social skills. But she articulated.  
“Well, aren’t I here for you to indoctrinate me or something?” She hinted at him, needing the inside on the apotheosis and needing him to think she was actually willing to change her mind. She scoffed inwardly. As if. 

“Oh.” Paul said, his head leaning back slightly, as if literally taken aback by her question. “Well...” he looked up to her and found only curiosity in her eyes, her head giving a small nod, gently prodding him to go on. He found his confidence growing, yes, this is exactly what he wanted! A chance to convince her properly, to stay with him forever, and join her real family now. “I guess I could start by telling you how amazing the hive is!”

She gave that fake laugh she used on guys she had no interest in but were willing to buy more than a few drinks for her. Thank god for drama club. Emma decided to take some words of advice from Ted, something she didn’t think she ever would do, even in the short time she had known him, but right now she understood his motivations when they were strapped down in Hidgens lab, that there was nothing left to lose as she told the person who was still part Paul “Fuckin go for it.”

Paul turned to her giddily, his feet still on the floor, she couldn’t really imagine any version of Paul putting his shoes on any furniture. “Oh Emma, do you really mean that?” He seemed so... relieved? It was like a weight had been lifted of his shoulders now she’d willingly asked about the hive. And she did mean it, she wanted to know more about the hive, just not for the reasons the infected version of her Paul wanted.

“It’s a family.” He started, his hands parting in front of Emma’s eyes, like he was telling the start of a story. And she was A-Okay to sit there and listen. 

“And you’re all connected. There’s no secrets, or insecurities. We’re all perfect and we all let each other know.”  
This wasn’t exactly the type of information Emma thought she needed but mentally she was trying to note down anything she could use. Maybe she could find an insecurity of Pauls, that was very human, and expose it, even if that wasn’t very humane.

Paul could see her interest was lacking and tried to move onto a new topic, wetting his lips and shuffling slightly towards her. “And there’s no pain in the hive.” He held her hands in his own, sensing her gulp and stiffen, he flipped them over gently till he could see her nails. They were absolutely wrecked from her gripping onto the porch stairs this morning and they had been bleeding a while back. He looked very uncomfortable with that. He let go of her but stayed at his distance, or therefore lack of, knee to knee. She kept her palms facing up. 

“Any injuries you had would be healed with minutes!”  
Emma rembeered when Charlotte had come with the hive in the hospital, her intestines were not hanging out as they had been the last time she saw her, when she’d been clinging to the very human Paul as her still sane professor shot the woman who had been so lovely moments before. Paul smiled at her, his hand rubbing on her knee over her lounge pants, big enough to hide her bandages under.

“Your leg would be fine...” his fingers traced over where her bandage was very lightly, quickly pulling them away like he forgot what he was doing. Emma dragged her legs to her chest, just stopped by the cushion wedged in the middle. He placed his hands back in his lap. “You could be dancing with me in seconds. Just think!” Again his hand shot out, taking her chin and very lightly leading it towards the grandfather clock, keeping it there as she looked carefully, wanting to understand. “Within 2 minutes from now, this second, you and I could be dancing right in this living room...” his thumb moved up just millimetres to stroke over her cheek, staring into her eyes and just imagining them looking back at him full of love and completely trusting, to look into her eyes as they span around the room.

Emma’s eyes peered down to his thumb, her chin still high towards the clock. She cleared her throat, watching Paul shake his head like coming out of a daydream and finally letting her go once more.  
“Erm...” Emma tried to compose her thought. Remember her aim. Next question, come on!

She tried to hide the fact her eyes lit up as she thought of something to ask that wouldn’t sound too suspicious.

“Well, to be honest, Paul, what I’m kinda worried about is sharing a mind or hivemind or whatever. I got a lotta thoughts in here I wanna keep to myself.” She pointed to her head ditzily, trying to play it off as a bit of a joke, she’d never be this vulnerable with the infected version of him without good reason, and she knew he knew that too. 

He shook his head with a small laugh. “It’s not that bad Emma! They just want to make sure you know the song and dance, it’s such a thrill to perform, look I can show you now!” Paul got up eagerly but Emma grabbed his hands. “No!” It was almost a scream. She wanted to learn how to cure him by any means necessary, even electrocuting the blue shit out of him had come to mind, but she didn’t think she could bear to watch him sing and dance in front of her again. Not when his whole thing had been hating that shit. It really dug in how it wasn’t the Paul she knew in front of her, no matter how much he sung about ‘being the man she trusted’ or whatever. She then began to realise what she’d done, and he was staring back at her, a mix of shock, disappointment and guilt in his face. He sat back down like a child who’d been told off, averting his gaze but huffing annoyed. She noticed he hadn’t tried to get rid of her grip on his arm though. She did this herself, pulling her hand back as soon as she realised, but then, her brain overtook her heart again. She should play nice.

She sucked it up and raised her hand, slowly setting it down on his back and bracing herself for... something. Some negative consequence for engaging in touch with him first. But nothing exploded and no holes opened up to swallow her whole. He hadn’t even looked to her. Just kind of... stopped blinking. So she kept going, she rubbed her hand from his lower back up to his shoulder blades and spoke lowly. “I’m sorry for yelling Paul.” 

He sighed, rolling his neck and closing his eyes. She wouldn’t choke up. It was fine. He wasn’t reverting back to his fully infected self. He wasn’t going to hurt her. “I just... don’t think I’m ready for that yet.” Emma tried to explain.

He rubbed his eyes with his hands, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his mouth, then turning to face Emma. He looked her up and down and Emma tried to not look absolutely terrified, she had no idea what he was thinking, it was back to that scary neutral expression. 

“It... hurts, to not sing or dance.”

She tilted her head towards him, not expecting that. Her eyes narrowing as she genuinely listened.

Paul noticed that, a quick shifty side eye, he was always acutely aware whenever she looked at him.  
“Well not exactly hurts but, it feels like I’m missing something, it’s numbing. Like a dark shadow and the only way I can get it to go away is by doing exactly what I’m supposed to. I haven’t sung or dance since last night and even that tiny gap is...” he shivered before he could finish his sentence.

He looked to her when she didn’t speak, he didn’t know what she’d make of this or if she even wanted to hear it, but she was still touching him and he took that as a good sign.

Emma stopped her hand, and Paul missed the contact, her warmth she gave him, but then made himself stay incredibly still as she placed her hand on top of his knee, sucking the air through his teeth, nervous but not in a bad way.

“I’m sorry it hurts.” Emma spoke quietly.

Paul nodded, placing his cold hand on her own, eternally grateful when she didn’t pull away. “Thanks. You don’t have to worry too much though.”

Emma smiled back, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing his kneecap. She was sorry that it hurt. But she wasn’t at all sorry that she was going to keep going with the thing that hurt him. If it destroyed the connection just maybe she had a chance at getting back the Paul she actually could stay with ‘forever’.

Paul saw Emma leaning away just a few moments later, and not wanting her to go do her own thing when he still had so much more to tell her, he gently cupped her hand as it raised off his. “No Emma. Please don’t go yet. I still have so much more to tell you about the hive.”

Emma was slightly regretting ever allowing touch between them as part of her act since now he was getting... clingy. But that was what she needed right? To save him? So she guessed she could happily deal with some hand holding with alien scum till then. She put on her best tired yet okay to go on smile, wanting her actions to seem natural to ‘Paul’.  
“You’re absolutely right.” She gave his knee two quick pats. He beamed at her.

“Well we can talk more, you can ask me all your questions and then we can order something, before we get groceries tomorrow. How do you feel about pizza?” Of course Paul knew already she liked pizza. He leaned in slightly, eyes sparkling “unless of course I can convince you before then.”

Emma leaned back, laughing quietly and pulling her hand away, waiting till Paul leaned back too. When he did she could finally breathe. She looked up to his eager smile and conceded “Pizza sounds awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one wasn’t as good, my brain was a bit scrambled while writing it, especially since it had a bit of filler.
> 
> I have several more chapter ideas for the series not including the deeper plot stuff but if you have any ideas for chapters you might like to see that would work in the series please let me know! Like scenarios between the two. I do have a couple of infected!Paul one shots and other series planned out so if it works better for them, and you don’t have a chapter idea used dw, I will give credit to commenters in the description if I take any ideas y’all would like to request, I can’t make any promises but I feel like a bit of community would be nice for this series, if not i’ll Just stick with what I’ve got and you guys will still be getting this series no matter what!
> 
> As always thanks for reading and comments and kudos are always highly appreciated!!


	7. Shopping Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul promised a grocery shop and that’s what Emma will get. She can’t wait to go outside, to be free, especially if that means the infected version of the man she thought she may be able to love, will trust her more

Emma had been bursting with excitement this morning, if she ever knew a grocery trip would be the most exciting thing to happen for her in her future she might have given up on life a long time ago. But it wasn’t the shopping aspect that made her smack Paul in the face with a pillow to get out of bed this morning. It was the idea of being outside.

Emma wasn’t even locking herself in the bathroom for as long as possible this morning, Paul noticed. She had her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, as she sat on their bed untangling some socks. She’d pause whenever she had her hand free to continue brushing.

“Wow.” Paul exclaimed. She was even staying in the same room as him as he put on a smart blue shirt, but no tie today. “You’re raring to go.” Paul smiled at Emma, his posture straightening as she smiled back, before she threw her toothbrush back through the open door into the en suite. 

“Are you shitting me?” She exclaimed, spitting and splashing her face before continuing. “You don’t understand how badly I needed to get some air.” She turned to him, seeing him patiently wait for her to continue speaking, he looked like a child on picture day, except his mother hadn’t been there to do his hair. Emma rolled her eyes at him, passing him his brush and waiting for him to take it, which he hadn’t yet. She raised her eyebrow, she wasn’t going to brush it for him!

Paul shook his head of whatever he was thinking and quickly took the brush off Emma’s hands, being careful not to touch her, there would be a lot of that today anyway. Emma nodded at him before going back to put her other sock on. “Just, thanks.” She knew it must have been hard to trust her after what happened yesterday, I.E. the bludgeoning and escape attempt. She finished with her sock. “I just get kinda claustrophobic in here, y’know?” She quickly added. Telling Paul her weaknesses was not on her agenda but she just kinda... blurted it out..

She watched Paul nervously as he leaned back against the dresser, sighing almost sadly. She was about to ask what was up when- “I knew I should have gotten you a bigger house.”

“No!” Quick to rectify her mistake, and kinda worried he might go off the deep end and start ‘changing’ people to let her live in a mansion, she babbled on about her fear. “It’s not that! I love this place and it’s bigger than anywhere I could afford even if I spent a hundred years at Beanies!” Oh god, Emma thought, Beanies. She wondered if the building was still intact or not. Not that it mattered as she’d never see it again. “Any walls are like that for me, it’s not the size that matters.” She explained.

Paul gave a few light nods of his head when suddenly he changed, his eyes sparkled as they captured Emma’s. “What not even if I got you Disneyland?” He joked. She seemed more relaxed when he was lighthearted last time. Although Emma wasn’t 100% sure just how much he was joking. The hive had so much power, if they took over the world... who knows what Paul would do to convince her to join the others. She walked over to where he was leaning, watching him straighten up immediately. But instead of touching him she grabbed her jacket sticking out of the drawer, placing it on while watching Paul the entire time.  
“Even Disneyland I’d eventually get bored of.”

Paul paused for a second before a laugh erupted from him. It could have startled Emma if she hadn’t been so used to his weird behaviour, after only, what, less then 2 days of it? 

“You’re wonderful.” Paul shook his head, like he marvelled her, before putting his arm out to link with hers. For just a second Emma’s instincts screamed at her not to to touch him. But she was playing along. He was going to get her out of this house and she was trying to secretly cure him. So quickly enough that Paul didn’t notice her hesitation, she threaded her arm though his, placing her hand there to keep her steady with her leg, as they left the building.

She was hoping to feel the wind soar past her face, god she’d even stick her head out the window like a dog at this point. And there was a car in their front lawn, not that Emma knew if he had the keys or not. After all he had walked from the hospital for hours, although Emma didn’t think her leg could last that long. “Paul?” She eventually piped up, as Paul looked both ways before crossing the street with her, seemingly taking smaller steps when he was with her.

“Yeah, Em?” He mused, smiling politely to a little old lady passing by them with her trolly. Emma couldn’t help but smile too, that woman was alive! Emma sometimes forgot she wasn’t the only non-hive member left on earth, the effects of Hatchetfield and the hospital catastrophe really hadn’t faded so quickly, like she’d hoped. She continued once the old woman was out of earshot. “How far is the store?” Emma had been picturing a massive mall filled to the brim with different shops, or at least a big Walmart or something, but she knew she was kidding herself, and that’s why she shouldn’t ever get too hopeful. 

“Not far.” Paul answered, humming to himself as he strolled along with her, arm in arm as insurance that she wouldn’t run. “There’s a tiny local corner store about 3 minutes that way.” Paul pointed with his free hand, down a road that to Emma just looked like it lead to more residencies. Her heart sank as she thought she’d barely have 10 minutes in her outing. But she should have let Paul continue before being so pessimistic. “-so if that’s easier on your leg we can go there. But I thought the slightly bigger store might have more stuff for us, about a 15-“ he peered down at her, lingering on her legs and then for some reason, the top of her head?.. “-20 minutes walk.”

Emma gave him a light shove, not a very good idea when you’re attached to someone who has a vice like grip when they panic, because when he stumbled she stumbled right on top of him. Luckily he caught her before she could fall, not soon enough for her to not stand on his feet. She didn’t notice though as she brushed herself off, continuing walking, eyes straight ahead. “That better have been a quip at my injury I got bravely in battle and not my height.” She warned, but there was a light tone of teasing in there. One Paul didn’t miss. “Yeah, bravely forgot your seatbelt-“ he mumbled to himself. Emma shoved his chest again, now she was free. Letting him trip over his own feet and nearly into a bush. But she waited for him to get his balance back before giggling at him, getting that feeling back that this could be a normal day with real Paul. 

She quickly stopped smiling though when he snatched her hand. He didn’t smile back. But he didn’t look exactly angry either, just... eager to move on, and the way he pulled at her hand to follow him, move on quickly. Maybe she’d embarrassed him? That would be a new non-hive emotion. Otherwise half the citizens wouldn’t be giving each other lap dances.

“C’mon, before one of us breaks a leg.” He mumbled, slowing down for her sake but now they were no longer linking arms, instead clasping each other’s hands.

Emma took a deep breath as the door beeped, signalling their entrance. It wasn’t because she was nervous though, she was full of energy! She squeezed tighter on his hand, spotting the booze section immediately. “Come _on_ Paul!” She tugged on his hand, him staying firm in place, thus, so was she. “Let’s... ugh... go!”

Paul took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, calmly, as Emma’s shoes were making steam on the floor as she tried to drag the two of them forward. “We have a list to go through.” 

“Screw the list.” Emma told him before doing something that may prove a point but may also have been stupid. She let go of his hand. Paul’s head immediately snapped up from the list. Emma had not moved a step away from him but her hands were free, in the air. He swiped at them but she pulled them back, waiting for him to try again. He stared at her, panic clear in his eyes, and watching every person who got too close warily. Emma piped up. “Look, I get what less than an hour of free time? At least let me do what I want with it?” She tried to plead. She couldn’t tell what Pauls answer was as he’d put that scary neutral expression back on again, as he took her hand sharply, gripping onto it a little too tight, which Emma supposed was only fair, but marched them straight to the booze aisle. “You’re so bad Perkins.” He muttered, but Emma caught the edge of his smile. Why would he be smiling? She’d defied his orders to always be holding him when outside. Unless... it was some part of Paul that didn’t care about the hives master plan...

Paul grabbed a bottle Emma pointed to by its neck, placing it in the cart as Emma tried to do the same to a much larger bottle. Quickly they realised it’s a little impractical to try to grab things while having one hand each down. So, without making too much of a fuss, Paul simply let her go... but he did sidle closer to her. 

Emma looked down at her hand, then to Paul’s. She clamped down on her hand, like the weight of his would still be there, but she found it empty, free. Now she looked up to Paul himself. He didn’t seem as happy as she did. He was the one who let _her_ go, but he looked anxious. Emma couldn’t really think of why, but he was trusting her, he was being reasonable rather than clinging onto fear... and her. Now he was burying his head into the booze, trying to find something rather than downing it but still looking for an escape anyway. To thank him, Emma wrapped her arm around Paul’s. She watched him blink in surprise for a moment before following the feeling down his arm, where she was holding onto him and smiling up. She squeezed his arm just once, her head leaning against it as she did so, before quickly letting go. He was looking a little too happy. She backed up, her mind coming back and telling her not to get too close to him, this wasn’t her Paul after all. But one too many steps back and he walked forward. For a moment, it scared her, him backing her up into the aisle like this, but she had to remind herself he wasn’t trying to hurt her, at least not in public, she trusted him about 30% at the moment, but she had promised him she’d stay close.

“Right. Sorry Paul.”

He nodded, extending his arm for her to lead the way, following at less than arms length behind, obediently. 

Paul and Emma continued side by side, up to the kitchen aisle. Emma didn’t know what she was looking for till it hit her. She saw the stack of knives at the end of the aisle, _weapons_. Without a second thought she ran to them, excited for the prospect of being able to defend herself and forgetting she wasn’t living a normal life with Paul, she was technically his prisoner.  
Paul hiss whispered her name as she ran, he’d only turned his back for a second! But she didn’t think about the implications of running off like that, not till she had jogged back to Paul. And when she did her excited smile immediately dropped. He looked like he was gonna blow! His face was blue, she supposed it being to do with his blood, or the fact he was holding his breath, like he was scared of what would come out of his mouth.

“I- I didn’t think-“ she gave up on excuses quickly, bending her head with her new knives hanging in her limp arms. “I’m sorry Paul.” she apologised, mostly because she didn’t want this outing to end so quickly, or for him to really get mad and decide he was better off infecting her, that was still a possibility in her mind... although not as likely as she’d deemed yesterday...

“It’s okay.” He didn’t sound completely fine, so she didn’t want to look up just yet. Instead he placed his arm around her shoulders, leading her to the knife section himself. “You just got me panicked for a sec, Em.”  
She dragged the cart with her, breathing out a sigh of relief as Paul’s presence faded and he took his arms away. At least he hadn’t reverted to the holding hands situation, which meant he might not be mad at her. Her confidence grew and she ran, with Paul in tow after she called out to him, straight to the sport section to see if they had a hefty bat or something.

They were on their fifth aisle, clothing, the hive hadn’t exactly gotten her a lot of stuff, especially clothes she couldn’t wear from previous owners. She was currently piling some underwear into their cart when she caught sight of Paul’s distressed face, and she knew it wasn’t just about some garments. She sighed as she piled a few shoes, that actually fit, on top. “Paul.” She started, leaning on the handles before looking up at him slowly. He looked down at her, trying to keep eye contact, but they kept flitting back and forth, between her, and any other person who passed. He looked paranoid.

“Paul!” Emma tried again, pressing her hand down on his. His eyes snapped back to her, too wide, it frightened Emma for a moment, but just a moment. She didn’t move her hand. “Paul, tell me, what’s wrong?” She asked.

Paul started to move the cart, Emma kept her hand on his, following him until he found an empty aisle. She blinked to calm herself as he leaned in, keeping her heartbeat steady as his breath tickled her neck. 

“I- erm...” he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, or at least that’s what she thought he must be doing, as he was this close, she just saw his elbow blocking out the harsh artificial light. “I didn’t ask the hive if I could do this.” He revealed, leaning in closer, his head leaning just very slightly against her, like he wanted touch comfort. “They might be mad at me...” He sounded like a scared child and it made Emma _want_ to comfort him. Not that she’d even admit that to herself, let alone him, but even though she leaned back she still rubbed his hand subconsciously, that she had not let go of. She opened her mouth to give him some words of comfort, for once. She didn’t want him to stop letting her outside and the fact he was doing stuff the hive may not be supportive of was a good sign for Emma that he was getting better. But she was cut off before the first noise could leave her mouth, too distracted to realise he was the one now interrupting.

“That’s why I got quiet, before-“ he stuttered, it was calming to Emma. “When you kept pushing me away earlier. I-“ his voice almost sounded... strained... Emma leaned closer. “I’m sorry for scaring you- I-“ He rubbed his toe into the ground.

Emma couldn’t help it. She leaned forward and grabbed him by his jacket, quickly wrapping her arms around his middle and leaning her whole body into him. It was like she was getting him back, maybe her plan was working after all, maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see, but Emma was slowly starting to regain hope either way.

Paul froze as she threw herself into him, half expecting this to be another trick. But when she didn’t move or let go, he quickly decided he was not going to waste what might be the first sign of her accepting him. He watched as she moved her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his chest and the nuzzling feeling almost... tickled. That was an odd sensation for him. But once realising he still hadn’t hugged her back, he threw one arm around her middle, holding her close and not wanting to let her go, as his other rested just above her shoulder, so his hand could play with the strands of hair at the nape of her neck.

Emma shivered at the contact, but in a good way! It felt nice to have him hold her like this, and she wasn’t going to deny it, not even to herself. She told herself stubbornly that there was no way the hive could be this caring or gentle, she shuddered, remembering how rather un-gentle they were when they were ripping her stitches apart... or the sound of them ripping Hidgens’ stomach open. Surprisingly, as her mind tried to distract her from those thoughts, one thing brought her out of them that she wasn’t expecting. And that was Paul’s lips against her head. She didn’t look up at him, not wanting to ruin the moment by his eyes being too blue or a trail of blue stuff leaking from the top of her skull but she still wanted to be held by him.  
Hadn’t this started off with _her_ trying to comfort _him_?  
She cleared her throat before pulling back, assuming Paul might need some tell that she was done with the hug, since he couldn’t read her face if it was buried in his shirt, and his grip wasn’t exactly feather light on her, just more... secure. She patted his chest and cleared her throat once more, her neck now craned to look up at him. He removed his arms, politely, and held his hands behind his back, like he was afraid he’d accidentally touch her again, or maybe he just wanted to hold hands even if it was with himself.  
“C’mon Paul.” Emma smirked, gliding on the cart slightly, as she let it take her weight; just like she and Jane used to do, when bored, shopping, as children. “Wasn’t it you who wanted to be back before dark?”

Paul reclaimed his place beside her, walking alongside as he searched the shelves absentmindedly. Then he checked his watch. “It’s not even midday yet.” He told her with a confused look on his face.  
“Yeah well you’re being slower than me, and I had my leg completely annihilated two weeks ago. Hurry up grandpa!”  
Paul smiled at her once more, picking up the pace, even though he was still slower than usual with Emma beside him, he liked when she joked, her smile was pretty.

“Look sleeping socks!” Emma skidded the cart to a stop, Paul quickly reaching his hand out to stop it smashing into the slipper section, his heroism went unnoticed. Emma spoke timidly, quite unusual for her “I always thought people who slept with socks on were the devil but, they’re specially designed for sleeping,” she rationalised out loud, not that Paul minded what she wore when she slept. Well, not like! Not unless, err, he didn’t... he hadn’t meant it like that! His brain went into overdrive, embarrassed for something he hadn’t even said out loud, only to get more embarrassed as Emma finished her sentence.  
“-and man your feet are freezing.”

Paul bent his head guiltily. “Sorry Emma.” Before his attention got caught. Paul grabbed a pair too and pointed to them happily. “Look! Matching!” He beamed, holding his grey pair right next to Emma’s in the air. 

Emma snorted, putting her own grey ones back. “I think matching stuff is a step too far bud.” She told him.

“But we’re already living together!” Paul pouted, fondling his own fluffy ones.

Emma felt like if she added ‘not by choice’ Paul might not be so happy. So she bit down on her lip, picking up some black ones and turning them over in her hands, like they required all her attention.

Paul didn’t seem to notice. ”If it’s my feet’s fault then I don’t see why you have to go against everything your moral compass stands for.” He joked, she always liked the joking. He wondered if that’d stay the same when she joined the hive.

Emma breathed out the ghost of a laugh, as her eyes stayed trained on the socks. “Yeah. It is your fault.”

And in those few words Paul saw something behind Emma’s eyes that told him that’s not all she was talking about, but he also noticed that she placed her socks right next to his in the trolley too... He wasn’t supposed to have to work out complex things like this.

When they left the store they had resumed their process of linking arms again, not because of distrust but by choice. That’s when they saw the same old lady from before, and Paul opened the door for her while still connected to Emma, smiling politely at her. The woman cooed at him, walking up and raising her hand to pinch Paul’s cheek. ”What a nice young gentleman you have there.” Paul was positively glowing whereas Emma wanted to point out he was not ‘hers’, nor she his. But she couldn’t disappoint Paul and a sweet old lady at the same time. Instead she lifted her other arm to cling onto Paul’s as well. “Yeah.” Emma smiled up at him and down to her. “He’s a star.”

When she was gone Emma hit Paul in the chest playfully, although he acted hurt. “Hey, I wasn’t being serious dumbo! You can stop looking at me like that now. It’s not like we’re actually boyfriend and girlfriend or anything!” 

Paul got saddened, for once he thought Emma was starting to like this new him, and see they could have a future together. He wrung his hands miserably.

“You’re this weird alien zombie thing and I’m just a very normal ex-barista who’s way out of your league.” Emma finished her sentence. She was sorting through the bags in their cart but she kept flicking her eyes up to his, to see his reaction. Now Paul realised she might have been teasing again, but how much was she joking about?

Paul quickly regretted not taking the car as they had arms full of shopping, not that he minded, but Emma refused to not be allowed to carry any and he worried what it would do to her leg. He would carry her and the shopping if she just let him! But they still got home soon enough, and Emma even stayed with him to put all the shopping in the right place, and even after that she’d been the one to suggest talking about the hive more! Their telepathic connection with each other to be precise. He was unsure why she was spending so much time on one simple part of the give but he assumed she must have been a good student at college with the amount of questions she asked.

When it came to night time though Emma had gotten quieter, as she had the night before. Maybe she was more of a morning person but somehow Paul really didn’t see that, especially when she didn’t go to bed till 1 am, and that’s only when Paul begged her for her own wellbeing. She had told him he was overreacting.

“I thought you wouldn’t care about my fucking sleep schedule.” Emma mumbled. She swore more at night too, or when she was angry with him. “You know-“ Emma tried to stop herself. ‘Don’t give him ideas!’ She cried inside her mind, but Paul was tracing his finger up her arm and the sheets were so warm. “-I thought you might try to wear me down y’know? Torture me until I got that there was ‘no pain in the hive’ like you keep droning on about.” ...She looked up to him nervously, afraid she’d said too much. Which was why she flinched back when his hand moved towards her face, shuffling to the edge of the bed. The only thing to stop her being Paul’s voice. “Emma, no...” It wasn’t a command, it was him trying to assure her she’d got it wrong. That he wasn’t trying hurt her. So she held her breath and let his hand move forward.  
Paul stroked her cheek with two fingers, before cupping it in his palm. She was so warm. And he was always so cold. But she didn’t shiver under his touch right now, that was a big improvement. 

He just kept stroking her like that and no words needed to be spoken due to the way he was looking at her as he did so. His message of ‘I would never hurt you’ was clear through his actions.

But he couldn’t help hurting her accidentally. Not from not knowing his own strength as he touched her, not this time, but the compulsion, the urge to sing to her, as he was this intimate was too strong, so much so he didn’t even notice what he was doing wrong, it was second nature to him, after all. And as she scoffed at him, removing his hand and turning her head to the side, but her body frozen in place, he knew it had hurt to listen to. 

“Emma I was only-“

“Do you know what I think about a lot?” Emma interrupted. She watched Paul carefully, he swallowed thickly but there was no gagging like last time. She continued, uncaring of what he could say right now. “I keep remembering the words- your words” she emphasised. “ _’I’ll never be in a fucking musical’_ ”

Paul hadn’t seemed to get what she was going for. “I guess it is ironic I met my soulmate at a musical then, which made me realise my hatred for them, back when I was sadder that was.”

Emma didn’t even bother arguing with the whole ‘we’re happier in the hive!’ mantra. Instead sitting up to speak louder, from the chest. “But we’re not soulmates! I didn’t even get to know Paul enough for that to be anywhere near true!” Emma tried to get him to understand, but small understandings of her own kept popping up as she talked. “It’s not fair how little time I got with him. Especially since he’s probably the only man I’ve ever had a chance at loving and I only knew him really for what, two days?! If even that!”

“We can make up for that!” Paul tried eagerly, sitting up also, but he was getting more concerned by the second. Especially now she was crying.  
“Emma?!” He tried, worry urgent in his voice. He didn’t know why she was crying now!

But Emma knew. Oh she’d tried to bury any and all emotions she’d had for Paul, since she had to spend some time living with this thing that was half him, and she had a chance at bringing him back. She couldn’t mourn him. But she’d just admitted not only to herself but out loud, she might have loved Paul. And now there was no definite of him being dead, or him being able to come back to her. It was all up to her, to be able to get the only chance at a happy future she might ever have. Because if she’d couldn’t get her Paul back, then this Paul may kill her.

“Emma!”

Right now she couldn’t have any version of Paul near her. It was too much. And screw the stick together for the chance to cure him hypothesis! She needed some time, any time, alone. She was being smothered by him! His arms wrapping around her, his smell, his songs which were the worst part. She threw his arms off of her and jumped onto the floor, ignoring her leg. “I’m going to sleep on the sofa tonight and you’re not going to force me to do anything else, you got that!?” Her voice raised with every word until she was screaming at him, her fists balled and face red.

Paul was in utter shock. And Emma hated the way his dumb mouth hung open.

With an angry sob she started balling the blankets up into her arms, wanting him out of her sight as soon as possible, tears spilling onto her pillow as she brought it closer, squeezing it against her chest. 

“Emma wait!”

“No! You’re not going to change my mind!!” Emma screamed, refusing to look at Paul, pulling her things closer as Paul got out of bed too.

“Emma, Emma! _I’ll_ stay on the sofa, okay?”

She looked up to him, her eyes burning and distrusting, burying the bottom of her face in her covers so he couldn’t see her pout, that automatically happened when she got upset, she hated it. Her breathing was shaky, and she was swaying on her feet, but Paul could see it was from adrenaline, her eyes were too alert, trained on him and dark as the night. He held his hands up so she could see them, backing away towards the door. And every step he moved he seemed to get less tense.  
“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely, even if he didn’t know what he had quite done, or if he was apologising for her situation in general, even though he’d given her everything and was doing this so she would be happy!.. he still felt like he needed to apologise. His eyes staying on hers till the last minute before closing the door quietly behind him.

Emma sobbed once more as the door clicked shut, but she wasn’t as sure if that one was stemmed from anger. She threw her stuff back into the bed before throwing herself onto it. Her face hit her pillow and she willed herself to stop crying, even though her body wanted some more her mind refused for her to do so. ‘You’ve cried so much recently!’ It taunted her. ‘How is someone so weak supposed to get Paul back, hmm?’ She shook her head into her pillow, turning to her side and going fetal, wrapping herself under her covers completely, blanketed by darkness. ‘You can’t! Even Hidgens gave up hope! And you were one of his stupidest students!’

“No..!” Emma whimpered out, biting hard on her wobbling lip. She would cure Paul. She would cure Hidgens and she’d save not just Hatchetfield but the whole damn world. She’d do just about anything to not cry this much ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer, I’m having a busy month or so because I’m moving to uni in a couple of weeks! V exciting/EXTREMELY nervewrecking 
> 
> As always comments are greatly appreciated and pls let me know if you have any ideas for this series I might be able to incorporate, I only have some ideas for odd chapters left but not much for the overall plot which is why the last two haven’t been extremely plot heavy haha, but I’m getting there!!
> 
> Also there’s quite a bit of back and forth between how they react to each other this chapter, so maybe it’s not just purely Emma who’s struggling with her feelings...


	8. Just Get Some Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their fight in the last chapter Emma has to try and navigate between her confused feelings around Paul and the fact she wants to flee from them, but has to stay close to even have a chance at getting the real cure back. Will she apologise when she hates the hive and those very complex feelings though?  
> +  
> 2 times Paul looks after an unconscious Emma

When Emma woke up there was only darkness. She groggily tried to turn to her side, get a look at the alarm clock on Paul’s bedside table, but was confused when even that didn’t glow through the darkness. Carefully she lifted her hand and prodded at the sky, sighing to herself when she felt the blanket still covering her head. ‘Well now is as good a time as any to get up’, she thought, as she slowly shimmied out from the covers and was blinded by the sunlight coming from the window. Usually Paul had pulled the curtains shut by the time she fell asleep.  
... aaaand immediately upon thinking this she remembered the argument from last night, even if she couldn’t remember how it had started. But she wasn’t about to go out there and apologise to that thing! Looking over to the clock successfully this time she saw she’d slept in without Paul’s waking her like he had done the other days. Truthfully it was probably the first time she had slept in in months. The noise of the hospital was killer and with Beanies and class she hadn’t had much free time in her schedule starting from 6am, but she almost couldn’t believe Paul had left her alone a full 11 hours. She’d try to round it to 12 hours of solace and take a bath, because of her leg and to avoid him, before facing him on the sofa. She could easily run down the hall to the bathroom before he could get upstairs, even with her bad leg. Of course this was all depending on if he could sleep, and would still be on the sofa.

As she sat up she scrunched the quilt under her hand pensively. She looked at the bed and realised, unlike when she’d tried packing everything but the mattress into her arms last night, he’d left without anything, no pillows or blankets, nothing. He just... got out of her way. She felt a deep pit in her stomach, even when she swore at herself for feeling, what, _pity_ , for him, and told herself she did **not** care... the feeling just wouldn’t go away.

“Just stop it.” Emma hissed under her breath, yanking the covers away and immediately shivering. It was freezing in this house. ‘Stop being so stupid’ she told herself, as she tiptoed to the cupboard and grabbed some of the clothes she’d bought yesterday and a towel. Wanting to quickly haul ass till she could try and relax in the warm water she marched straight to the door, flung it open and tried to walk out of there as fast as she could before Paul could stop her... only to trip over a large barricade right in front of her feet.

Emma dropped all her stuff but managed to stay on her legs, swearing as she grabbed onto the wall. She looked down following her drifting clothes, and saw a very startled Paul curled up in the doorframe.

Her cheeks puffed out in annoyance, as he stared back up at her, his eyes poking through whatever was covering his face, in an equal amount of shock as well. And a hint of guilt. Emma bent down to pick up all her shit, which had all fallen on top of him. “What the hell are you doing out here?” She asked, voice rough. She avoided any and all eye contact and focused on her belongings.

Paul gingerly picked up the item that had fallen on his face, lifting it into the air to see what it was before immediately gaining a blue blush that spread to his ears and down his chest upon realising. “Uhmm..!” He tried to speak, but when holding her underwear as politely as possible between the tips of his nails, that had just fallen onto his face, he found it quite hard.

Emma looked down to see what he was going on about now, only for her eyes to pop out of her skull. She snatched them harshly out of his hands. Of all the things to... and on his face!.. why did it have to be... ugh.

“I thought you were sleeping on the sofa.” Emma grumbled quickly, hoping to change the subject. And... yeah! Why was he outside her door like that? She had questions. 

“Well I was but you were having nightmares, I think, last night.” Paul answered. He started to get up off the floor, brushing himself off to appear presentable, really he just wanted something to do while he was talking to her. Oh he’d love to just shake this off with a comedic slapstick dance number right now.

Emma bristled at this. Yeah she hadn’t gone to sleep in the best of mindsets but what gave him the right..? She decided she wasn’t gonna debate herself on this anymore, as long as he didn’t do it again, it was too... confusing. “Well I can deal with that myself. I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about so...” She trailed off.

“You were screaming my name.” Paul commented, his voice appeared neutral which made Emma even more freaked out. What could she have said in her sleep? There were definitely things buried deep in her that she didn’t want him to know about.

“I probably wasn’t screaming ‘your’ name.” She said defensively. Emma then shook her head. “W-“ she gave a small laugh, one full of resentment. “Why am I even still talking to you about this?” She might have come off a little too aggressive for it to seem natural, but she didn’t care, as far as she was concerned the conversation was over. She sidestepped past him, now holding all her clothes and towel in her arms and quickly locked herself in the bathroom, turning the shower on before doing anything else so he got the message to leave her the fuck alone for now.

Emma hated herself even more right now, as she swirled her fingers through the warm water. She knew she was supposed to be sticking close to him, to test her hypothesis, to possibly cure him, yet every selfish part of her wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. Except for the even more selfish parts that just wanted to cling to him and not look back. But she had told herself that she would cure him if it’s the last thing she did. Emma was notorious for when making a plan she would set out to do it and nothing would stop her. That’s why she plopped herself on the couch next to him when she was dry and changed, snatching the remote out of his hands yet still refusing to look at him. “Huh. There’s never anything good on, is there?” She commented, happy he knew that it didn’t need a reply. That she just wanted to sit with him for a while before she had the strength to muster up any sort of conversation. And if he was being truthful, he was quite glad. He’d had all night and still had no idea what to say to her. 

It had been about 20 minutes until Emma finally felt calm again. Paul had been giving her side glances every so often, and he was relieved that each time he’d look back she’d be considerably more slouched into the couch. 

Emma kept the tv on, but turned to face Paul, her good leg crossing on the sofa. Paul hadn’t even been watching the tv, he was just waiting for her to talk first, waiting till she was ready.

“Does it still hurt?” Emma began, looking over him as if she’d see evidence of what she was asking. “To not sing or dance, is it still painful?”

That wasn’t really the first thing Paul thought she’d ask about, but he’d learnt to try not to predict her, it was just easier. “Yes.” He shrugged nonchalantly. He saw her shoulders slump and tried to think of a better answer for her, after all, she had reached out. “I mean...” he started, turning to show he was giving her his full attention, even thought that’s what he had been doing since day 1. “It’s not worse than it was before. I think I might just sorta be getting used to it. It’s more like an intense itching under my skin, rather than a burning, but if I’m distracted from it it all goes numb.” He sincerely hoped that helped in whatever she hoped to gain from asking, maybe just an icebreaker for them?

Emma nodded. One the one hand this may be an indicator her idea was working. On the other now she felt truly horrible for leaving him, because in doing so, she was making things worse for her real Paul. Even if his answer didn’t give her as much hope as even her pessimistic heart hoped for.

Emma just nodded, pursing her lips in thought. Paul was disappointed when she didn’t ask anything else, turns out it was just some small talk, she might as well have asked about his opinion on the weather! Paul took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He couldn’t afford to get upset at her. No matter how angry she got at him he knew that his being emotional would frighten her beyond all reason, and not only would he back back to square one, but he may even be worse off, she would never trust him if he truly lost his temper. Luckily he wasn’t that far off the edge yet, not nearly that far, just... a little impatient.

“...Paul?”

He peeked open one eye to see her looking to him worriedly, there was no background noise of the television. Just him and her.

“Emma what did I do that upset you?”

She blinked in surprise. But that wasn’t an answer for him.

“Or was it something I said or...” he twisted more towards her and wished he could reach his hands out and hold hers in his own, but he wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. That had to change. He continued. “I don’t know, I don’t understand why we backtracked last night. ...And you’re still upset with me today.” He explained to her as best he could. He really wasn’t supposed to feel deeper more complicated things like this in the hive and deep down he knew it, but he was entirely too focused on her.

Emma could see he was starting to question her, the last thing she needed was him catching on to the only reason she hadn’t smashed through a window and booked it out of there. But she wasn’t about to be _nice_ to him. He’d had quite enough of that in her good spirits the last few days. With a heavy sigh she found the words, if they’d just add more fuel to the fire she didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like she could lie to him the way he was scanning her right now, so she’d just have to give him half-truths. “Paul it’s not something you did it’s just that you’re not the _real_ Paul.” She stated bluntly, shrugging her shoulders like it was just a passing comment, denying who he claimed he was.

“First of all, you know that’s not true Em.” He wagged his finger at her like a disapproving teacher, only to rein it in because any strong emotion could lead to a spontaneous sing and dance, so gesturing wasn’t gonna help his cause. “But you were nice to me yesterday. You were happier!” He begged her to remember what it felt like yesterday, what he knew she must have felt, they had laughed, she’d held him when she didn’t need to, it was almost a picture of domestic bliss.

“What so I’m not allowed to have mood swings.” She snapped back, honestly, too emotionally exhausted to think of too many good counter arguments, at least that’s the excuse she told herself.

Paul sighed, wiping his hands from pulling at his fringe to sloping down his jaw. How did people do this? No couples in the hive ever had these problems! “Emma I’m just trying to understand. I don’t want to get into another argument.” He begged her to listen.

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to piss him off at this point. Almost like if he flipped out she’d have confirmation that it wasn’t the real Paul and a reason to leave, even though that was a shitty thing to do, wasn’t it? But when she needed a punching bag, but had made it her duty to stay right next to him... well it wasn’t a good combo for Paul.

That conversation ended there as she turned the tv back on, keeping eye contact with him the entire time, until the light hit her face and she turned to ‘watch’.

It took about an hour but she’d slowly been shuffling towards him on the couch whenever she repositioned her legs. And when she was close enough that his arm strvehed above the couch, could touch her, well, that was close enough. She turned off the tv. He blinked like he thought his vision and just gone for a second, only to realise it had actually been turned off. And he turned to Emma, wondering what exactly was going through her head today.

“Come on then. What’s our lesson on the hive today, professor?”

Paul had decided to inform her on what the hive _felt_ like. She didn’t think that was the most vital information, and it hurt her to hear him say how much his life had improved and how shit it had felt before in comparison... but she had a mission and he might let something slip she could use. But half an hour in and he was speaking about the feelings of Charlotte and Sam and their marriage right at this second and she was starting to lose hope and patience.

“I’m bored.” She stated, interrupting him and sliding further down the couch, her head completely resting against it now.

Paul rolled his neck and loosened his tie. It was better than him throwing up when his word flow was stopped. He placed his hand back in his lap. “I thought you wanted to talk about the hive?” She was very confusing to figure out.

Emma didn’t like the way he was staring at her. But then again was that really something she wasn’t used to by now? She sucked it up, resting her chin in her palm. “Yeah but I’m still bored.” She said simply.

Paul could negotiate! He could save what little civility they’d had today. “Well is there a way I could tell you that wouldn’t be boring?” He offered, because if not she’d need to make a choice, and maybe she’d figure out that her strange logic of wanting to talk to him but hating what he said really didn’t make any sense. At least, not to him. What he wasn’t expecting was that sentence to make Emma look angry. Shit.

“If you fucking suggest interpretive dance I will strangle you with this throw over Paul.” She said, clutching the soft material on the couch between her fists. She wasn’t being 100% serious of course but she wasn’t exactly acting like this was all in a light hearted nature.

“No...” Paul started, trying something and grabbing onto her hands, holding them in her lap. They’d held hands plenty of times! He didn’t know why now she was testing her tugging ability. “No Emma I won’t. I mean I’d like to perform but you still don’t seem ready so I won’t and just... well I don’t know!” He gave up, not knowing what to say made his heart physically hurt, like it was beating too hard and trying to escape his ribs. “You’re the one with all the smart ideas!” He threw his hands up, letting hers go. Now he was officially annoyed but of course now Emma was okay. He knew that because she’d stopped cradling her hands like he’d burnt them with his touch, even though he knew had had been being very gentle.

Emma sucked it up. She was trying to make Paul more humane, and she really was being pretty bitchy. Even if she didn’t fully trust that he wouldn’t just kill her, or worse, forcefully vomit into her mouth and inflict her into being something she didn’t want to be, he’d been nice and she’d been too tough. And even though she’d told herself before she was trying to be nice she had to bite down on the truth that she really wasn’t trying hard enough. So she said one word, to keep it simple, for her sake as well as his. “Thanks.”

“Thanks? What do you mean thanks?”

Fuck. He was really gonna make her elaborate wasn’t he? She drove herself to look at him when she said it this time, it was her responsibility to get the real Paul back or die trying. And right now she was being pretty fuckin terrible at the job, and this didn’t even compare to spitting into people’s coffee. “Thanks for the compliment, calling me smart and stuff. Although I guess I’ve been a bit of a dumbass today.” Fuck. She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t even know why she said it! That wasn’t planned! How dare her mouth say that without her brain saying it was okay... but, the fact she could say things that weren’t a plan from some higher power, didn’t that just prove she was still human?

Paul looked a little confused, almost like he didn’t even remember saying that, like _it_ had slipped out of _his_ mouth. But nevertheless, he wanted to keep up a good relationship with Emma. “Oh. That’s okay, I just spoke my mind.” And oh how that sentence gave just another tiny spark of hope to Emma.

_~evening~_

Emma finished putting her plate away, a short burst of laughter filling the room at Paul’s comment as he took the cutlery. He hadn’t really eaten, and even though he’d coked for her, he still insisted on helping her clean up. If this was any normal situation Emma would have been convinced she’d found the perfect partner. She just wished he would eat with her. That’s normal. 

She was happy she’d been getting slightly more back to normalcy with Paul in the past few hours, but the weight of her realisations still took their toll, and her heart sank whenever she looked at him. Even if she wasn’t strictly religious, she prayed that would stop soon.

Paul took the plate out of her hands, looking to her leg quickly and hoping she hadn’t noticed. He still didn’t feel like she should be walking around on it if she could help it. But she wouldn’t be contempt in letting him do all the work. He would go get the glasses later too, since she’d forgotten them. He was just happy she’d liked his cooking, even though he had previously been an average cook on a good day the hivemind had been helping him out, he didn’t think Emma had to know that little secret though. She’d been slightly getting back into her old persona around him, slightly calmer when they accidentally brushed past each other, since she refused to leave him alone in a room, he thought she might have felt guilty. But it still wasn’t as good as yesterday. All day, she’d barely glanced at him and she’d snapped at him a few times even after they’d sort of made up on the couch. As well, her light conversation had been very closed off, like she was shielding herself. Maybe she was realising she was starting to love the hive and this new version of Paul, and she was stubbornly still trying to deny it!.. But even with how joyous the hive made him, he wasn’t that hopeful.

But he’d try even harder. If she pushed him away, he’d know he’d gone too far and stop, but if she wouldn’t bring herself to make any of the first moves, he would instead. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about the hive tonight.”  
He heard all their screaming in his mind but blocked it out. This was _his_ decision.  
“Maybe we should, I don’t know, just watch a film or something?” That was what people did right? He’d always wanted to take her to a movie, it was a bit too late in the night now for that but he knew she wouldn’t be wanting to sleep yet, maybe that was one topic he should back off from tonight.

Emma smiled half heartedly. While she was flattered he was trying to appease her, she actually wanted to talk about the hive, she needed to. But she was secretly trying to appease him too, so she just responded with “Yeah, okay then Paul.”

She put herself in the corner, because she liked to curl up there, but she didn’t want Paul sitting on the far end, if she was going to stick by him go make him more human then she’d do it properly. She patted the space right next to her, watching him walk like a baby fawn, with those shaky legs, and his unsure expression as he tried to manoeuvre his way into where she wanted him. He got there in the end though. He planted himself right next to her, hands politely folded in his lap. She flicked on the film she’d found to watch, but rolled her eyes, trying to be the better person and work towards her aim. “For fucks sake you don’t have to be so robotic, just relax on the couch, that’s what you wanted right?” Her voice dripped with annoyance but it didn’t make sense for her to bring him so close and to get so quiet once he’d sat with her, if she was actually annoyed with him.

She watched as he slowly nodded, and satisfied she threw the end of the throw over around Paul’s lap rather than having it divide them, as a common courtesy of course, nothing more. And with that simple gesture it only took paul less than ten minutes to properly wind down on the couch. So he lifted his arm to stretch it behind Emma, resting on top of the sofa. But he was not paying enough attention and his hand very gently glided past the bottom of Emma’s neck as he moved. She crumpled in on herself, but not as a flinch, it was accompanied with very short lasting laughter. He’d tickled her.

Paul looked up when she flailed, placing his hand back to his side and watching her, she now was staring like she couldn’t believe she’d done that herself and then he realised. “Emma, are you ticklish?”

“No!”

The answer was way too quick.  
So Paul decided to try something. To take a risk and the first bigger step into rebuilding their trust. He acted like he was reaching over for the remote, and gently fluttered his fingers past her waist, in a tickling motion. 

“Ah! No Paul! St-“ she started only to be broken down into laughter. And then upon realising she was laughing, laughter mixed with indignation and a hint of anger. “No Pau-ahahaha! St-Stop-!” She cackled again as he stroked his hand forward and back across her middle.

“Paul I mean it- NO not there!” She was falling down the sofa, her hands darting out to stop him. “Seriou- bwahahaha!! Seriously before... someone... gets hurt!” Pual dodged her hands and didn’t listen. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t hit him hard to stop his attack that was all play in nature. But unfortunately her foresight wasn’t applied to _him_ getting hurt. As he hit a particularly ticklish spot right above her hip bone, her left leg thrashed out, and she fell on the floor, onto the empty wine glass she’d left there, onto her bad leg.

“FUCK!”

Paul’s hands were suspended in the air like he’d tried to catch her, but he was frozen, well, he was for all of two seconds. Then he jumped off the couch to kneel by her side. “Oh shit!” He watched as she rolled herself over, lifting up her bad leg, just enough so Paul’s hand could push away the, luckily still mainly intact, glass. “Emma I’m so sorry!”

“Ungh. It’s not... your fault.” She winced as she turned so her leg was in the open.  
She didn’t have any big shards sticking in her leg, just tiny pieces that had scraped her, they were easily brushed out by Paul, who in his hurry, forgot she could feel pain quite deeply.

“FUCK PAUL!” Emma grasped onto her leg tightly, protectively, almost in a fetal position as she screwed her eyes shut. 

“Aw fuck!” She heard him. “Emma I’m so sorry I- I didn’t-!”

She ignored him as she pushed herself up. It really could have been a lot worse, the fall onto it had hurt more than the few scrapes she had... but if one of the shards caught on her stitches...  
Emma started hobbling towards the stairs, with Paul following closely behind. “Emma let me-“

“No!” She shouted, her knuckles white on the bannister as she heaved herself up. “I-I I just need to do this alone!” She quickly tried, reaching the bathroom by taking two steps at a time and before Paul could follow her in, slamming the door in his face and locking it. She sat down on the floor there and then, exhausted as she heard him rattle the handle, then lightly knock on the door. “Emma?” He called, his voice wobbling. Emma could cry with happiness at that fact since that was _very_ un-hive like if it wasn’t for the fact she was already crying. She tried to stifle her cries though, biting down on her hand before she felt calm enough again. She opened the cabinet door next to her and found some painkillers, downing them dry, since she didn’t think she had the energy to reach up to the tap and drink from it. She heard him still pacing outside, but did her best to ignore it.

But the next part would be the trickiest, because she might end up having a panic attack or she had to redo her stitches, worst case scenario. She hated blood, but Paul already remembered that.  
“Emma, what’s going on?” He tired again, only to once more be met with no response. But it wasn’t from lack of caring, Emma was just very distracted at the moment. She was forcing herself to undo her bandages. 

She bit down on her lip hard to force herself to stay quiet as she worked. But the more layers she unwrapped the harder that became, as little splotches of blood, her blood, started to seep through. She felt like she was gonna throw up. And then, as she was pulling, they started to stick to her skin from her dried blood, and in her panic she let out a yelp. Then she saw those ugly stitches that were on her leg, her body, like she was some sort of puppet. And now she was sobbing heartily.

“I’m coming in.” She heard Paul’s voice boom, with no room for argument. But oh, she argued.

She quickly shouted back an “I’m fine!” But her voice was shaky beyond all reason. 

So Paul tried again, pushing but discovering there was more resistance than a simple lock there.  
Emma had learned from last time and took the heaviest but least conspicuous objects to hide in every room for barricade, but realised that this room had the useful benefit of having a drawer that if you pulled out at the right angle, would block the door from fully opening, so that was her safety net in this room. She watched him try a few more times before hearing him bang his head against the door, his voice louder now with how close he was.

“Emma open the door.” 

She cried softly. Now she could taste blood because she’d bitten so hard on her lip, and she felt severely ill. The glass had done very little damage, and her stitches were perfectly fine, she just had to wrap it up again with the fresh bandages she now held in her hands. It didn’t even hurt too badly, especially with the medicine kicking in, it was more the oncoming panic attack. But she still couldn’t have Paul there. She’d tried to be strong, she had! Being near him even though it killed her. But she was scared. She was scared that if he was this close when she was this scared she was going to open that door and let him in. She was going to let him try and make everything better.  
“Paul please I just need some time okay? Just, please leave me alone.”

Paul heard her smally from the other side of the door, but he heard her nonetheless... and she still wasn’t letting him in. He bent his head and walked off, curling on the couch and staring blankly at the film they’d left running, the one they were supposed to be watching together right now. She still didn’t trust him... she didn’t lo- he cut his own thoughts off. She could tell him how she felt herself one day, he shouldn’t speculate. He threw the remote at the tv, turning it off as he chucked, and began to shift until he was looking to the ceiling, in the exact same position he was last night...

_Paul had been laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling for about 3 hours since Emma had tried to leave their room and he offered instead. He was just simply thinking, as he had the past few nights while being a member of the hive. Tonight he was thinking about what he had done to make Emma so upset and wondering if she really did hate him. That’s when he heard- or he thought he heard her calling out. He closed his eyes, he was imagining things. He laughed bitterly at himself, because he’d thought he’d heard her call-_

_”PAUUUL!!!”_

_This time he was sure. She had screamed his name so loudly and it sounded like she was terrified! He ran up the stairs, skipping three at a time. ‘What could have happened?’ He thought. ‘Has one the hive come to take her?’ He would not be happy with whoever in his family had laid a finger on her._

_As he sprinted closer down the halls he could not only hear her screaming for him but hear her sobs and the softer whimpers for him as well. But once he’d skidded to the door he had a heart wrenching realisation, it was locked from the inside._

_“Emma?” He called worriedly, yanking at the doorknob before trying to hear what had happened, putting his ear to the door. He couldn’t hear anyone else so wouldn’t fully break down the door yet, he’d keep listening to try and figure out what was wrong. As he listened more and heard nothing except his name, her cries, and her tossing and turning he quickly deducted ‘she’s having a nightmare’._

_He felt terrible for her but there was nothing really he could do, since she wasn’t in danger and she wasn’t consciously asking for him. Paul slumped on other side of the door, feeling useless. Then he remembered what the hive, what he, now, was best for and decided to try something risky. Paul started to sing her favourite love song. It was slow, he wasn’t gonna belt something like bootylicious to her or anything, but as he heard her cries quieten he kept going, except he changed it slightly and inserted her name into it. And when that song ended he came up with his own ballad for her, not wanting to stop yet as she was still whimpering. He kept going with no breaks, so she could keep listening, for half an hour till he heard her completely quiet. The only noise coming from the light groaning of the bed as she settled. Paul just sat there, with his head against the door in case she needed him again, he’d be there as soon as she called, closing his eyes and entering that not quite asleep but docile phase._

So when Emma had tired herself out in bathroom Paul decided he’d take care of her again, not that she had to know. He came in a minute after getting outside the door. He could have taken that barricade down any second and all the locks he knew how to undo from outside since he learned he was taking her there, but he felt like he shouldn’t invade her privacy unless he really thought it was an emergency, which for a second he thought it might have been. 

When his eyes landed on her he was filled with empathy. He sighed, she was all crumpled in on herself, her head leaning against toilet, red tear streaks looking raw on her skin and just not in a good position. As well he could tell from the strewn items across the floor and the very twisted bandgaes she’d patched herself up, all alone.

He gently took her scrunched up body and lifted her up into arms, thankful for her sake she stayed asleep. He shifted her softly so she could be as comfy as possible as he held her to his chest. He closed the door behind him, and would go back to clean up for her after he’d put her to bed. Paul started singing that ballad from yesterday to her again, it has calmed her last night and truthfully it had been stuck in his head all day, it gave him such pleasure like no other song had yet to sing it.

When only a few steps down Paul noticed her starting to wake and he quickly turned it into a hum, wanting her to be able to fall back into peace, but she caught her name in it. 

Groggy, Emma looked at Paul’s face then down to where her hand laid on his chest limply.

Paul heard just how raw her throat was.

“Paul...” 

“Sssh don’t, just get some rest.” 

It was whispered. And after his words she’d closed her eyes again. With zero reactions he thought she’d fallen back asleep in his arms again but when he placed her down on the bed and out of his arms she shivered and pulled at sleeve of jacket and she didn’t let go. 

“Paul... stay.” 

“...Emma” It was more whispered than she was, wanting her to be able to doze back off straight away once he’d left.

“I don’t care right now, just stay.” 

She was barley comprehensible but he was fine even so, and was fine with the fact he was still in his suit. Paul crawled on top of the covers just by letting Emma pull him, he faced her on his side this time rather than their usual let’s not look at each other routine, even with her eyes still closed. And even with her eyes still closed she started to shuffle towards him. But he immediately shuffled instead so she had to do less of the work and would remain in that blissful close to sleep state.

Emma grabbed his arm and placed it around her middle, leading his hand all the way till it was wrapped securely on her lower back, he rubbed it softly, watching as she put her own arm around him, holding onto his waist. That was just after she opened his jacket slightly to nose in there, resting her head against his chest and breathing him in. Paul feel like he was in a state of competle bliss, normally he didn’t get feelings this intense unless he was si- his throughts were interrupted when she nudged her knee once against his own. He thought it was a mistake, then she nudged a second time. He spread his knees and she entwined her leg between his own. 

“Cold...” she whimpered.

“Just go to sleep” he whispered, tucking her in more. When trying to cover her with the quilt is when he noticed her sleeping socks, she must have been lounging around the house in them. His other hand was curled to his side and could only manage to stroke Emma’s hair from this position, with her head barely visible, he still did it though. Within seconds Emma was whistling, fast asleep again. He wanted so badly to kiss her head, to tuck her into what had to be a comfier position but he stayed exactly where she commanded, because he did not want to wake her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always please let me know what you think! We’re gonna get into more plot stuff next chapter too so watch out for that. Any and all comments are appreciated!!


	9. What Do You Want, Emma?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma starts her period while living with infected!Paul. And her cure doesn’t stay as secretive as she’d like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m terrible at science including after doing research on stuff so getting into the cure we’re going to be in an au where science can do whatever the fuck it wants

Emma started to get the warning symptoms, and thanked fuck she used a tampon just in case. She really couldn’t deal with this at the moment, Paul was downstairs making breakfast and she had to check against her little diary she’d asked him to buy her, if he seemed more human than he did yesterday. So she did a quick change of equipment and continued on downstairs like everything was fine.

Paul smiled up at her as she came down the stairs, she still faltered on them when he waited for her like that, it was almost domestic. “Hey Emma, I couldn’t find those blueberry pancakes you wanted so I decided to make them myself!” He said cheerily, getting back to his little wooden spoon.

Emma came over to look at them, but before that the warm smell hit her and she had to wipe the back of her hand against her mouth in case she was drooling. “God Paul I was gonna ask if you were sure this was a good idea, but wow you must be an expert at this. I have no idea why you decided to buy our shitty pastries on any morning instead.” 

Paul gave her a laugh, flipping the pancakes and focusing on that. He liked that she’d started to call him by his name more casually now, as if she didn’t question it as much any more. “Yeah well, it’s lucky I have the hive here to help me.” He said nonchalantly, not even trying to convince Emma in that moment.

Emma felt her heart sink. She thought this little domestic bit was showing his humanity was coming back, that he was fighting off the infection. But by god subjectiveness is shitty in science. She couldn’t tell a goddamn thing!

She slumped onto the barstool, head in hand. “It’s taking too long.” She mumbled to herself, staring at the wall. 

“What is?” Paul asked, taking his eyes off the pan to look to her a moment, nervous at her sudden shift. He didn’t think she meant the pancakes needed speeding up.

Emma shot out of her chair, startling Paul, who gave a nervous glance to her bandaged leg, but quickly proceeded to look her in the eyes, a bit scared she’d get angry at him if she thought he was mollycoddling her. It had been a week since she changed them last, when he took her crumpled body back to bed where she asked him to stay. She still sometimes got upset, for reasons he couldn’t understand even if he tried, but she’d been much happier with him since. 

She paced for about two seconds, she already knew her next step, but how would she ask? “I need a sample of your cells!” Her mouth blurted. Well that was certainly one way to do it. 

She watched as he turned down the heat on the hob before covering his chest with his arms, like protecting himself from her stealing his cells. Her theory was that if she could separate Paul’s and the hive’s cells- luckily the difference was clear from colour alone, from the small research she’d done with Hidgens, God how she missed his wisdom- then she could kill the hives cells outside of their host and inject it into back into Paul once they were dead, and maybe that would do something. Maybe. It was a long shot but the best idea she had for now.

Paul still hadn’t unfurled from himself. “Why?” He prompted again worriedly.

Fuck. Emma really didn’t want him to find out but what other alternatives were there to his question? She tried something and shrugged. “Scientific curiosity.”

Paul tilted his head, his body language more assertive than defensive now. His tone wasn’t kidding. “Emma.”

Emma’s lip wobbled, she was done for, she might as well let him know and hope, hope, he was human enough to not try and stop her. She opened her mouth and felt a weird sense of relief as she told him “To try and cure you okay!” She shouted it, sitting back down on the stool as if the revelation took so much energy out of her.

Paul leant his back against the bar, his hand wiping over his face. “Christ, Emma.” He moaned, seeming annoyed.

Emma started to get annoyed too. She was trying to help him! “Yeah well-!” She suddenly went from having balled up fists at her side to putting her hand to her head, staring to get a headache. And that wasn’t the only ache she’d been avoiding, she needed that seat for her back.

Paul straightened his own back slightly, he could feel a tension headache himself coming from this conversation, forgetting there was supposed to be no pain in the hive. “What..?” He started to ask, not really sure what he should be asking about.

Emma wanted him to shut his dumb mouth and stop focusing on her when _he_ was the one who needed help!

“...Are you alright?”

She couldn’t help but have that bit of anger pointed at him alleviated.   
Emma slammed her hand down on the counter and pushed herself off her chair, Paul’s eyes following nervously. “I’m just going to raid your medicine cabinet and then we’re resuming this conversation.” She told him quietly, pointing her finger at him so he knew he should not go anywhere. Not that Paul was going to leave Emma alone now. He wanted to know what was happening.

When Emma came back down Paul had plated the slightly charred pancakes for her but he could tell she wasn’t really in the mood for them anymore. She still picked at them for him. 

Emma said she’d resume the conversation but she didn’t want to start arguing again just yet. She really hated shouting. Paul didn’t seem to want to be the one to start the debate either. He tapped his foot nervously and Emma tried to block the sound out, chewing louder and on bigger bites. 

Now she’d started eating Paul found an excuse. “I’ve just gotta... do... something.” He muttered before rushing away. Not the greatest excuse. Emma turned in her chair to follow him but he was quickly out of her eyes sight, and seconds later she could hear him jogging up the stairs. She slipped her chin into her hands with a groan, shoving the plate away with her elbow before resting it on the table. What was she gonna do?

Paul came back down a few minutes later, finding Emma on the couch in the living room instead of the kitchen now. When he finally entered the room he was looking at Emma worriedly which just made Emma’s own look even more anxious. 

“Just sit down.” Emma moved up a bit on the couch, waiting for him to join her, which he did almost immediately after being invited. She let the gap in the sofa cushions be a barrier for them but kept pretty close apart from that, she’d noticed that Paul was shuffling to keep at an equal distance to her too. She sighed “Look dude, can we just forget about what I said and move on?” It was all she could say, even if she knew there was no way he wo-

“Okay, Emma.”

Her mouth fell open just a little. She’d just told him she had been trying to separate him from the hive for over a week and he wasn’t even going to ask her about it?? She didn’t want him to yell, but expected they’d at least have a talk.

“What do you mean okay?” She pushed, her eyebrows furrowed and even feeling angry, like he was hiding something from her. His true feelings? If he was actually pissed she wanted him to say something! Or it could be something else...

Paul sighed, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. “Emma.” He screwed his eyes closed. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it? We can talk about it tonight instead.” He added to compensate.

Emma felt herself getting riled up. She’d thought of all the things she could say when she finally told Paul she was trying to cure him, but in most of those scenarios he’d be at least half way towards being human again by then. She just had to roll with the punches. “Well yeah because you’ve been trying to convince me this whole time to join the hive so I think it’s my turn I convince you to become human again!”

“Okay.” He sighed, not moving from his position. He yelped in surprise as Emma’s fist punched his shoulder.

“What the fuck is up with you dude?” She grunted, frustrated at him. The hive got angry, people got angry, what the hell was he doing?

Paul simply sighed once more. Emma was getting real sick of it. “Emma I’m not going to argue with you when you’re not feeling good.” He rationalised, turning towards her with a pitying look.

Emma felt her heart rate slow. “What?”

Paul took her hands in his, Emma didn’t try to move them, they were warm. “What’s up? I saw in the bathroom, you took the extra strong painkillers, and you’re only supposed to take 2 but you took 3.” His blue eyes kept on her brown ones, very serious, he didn’t think she was dying, but something was up. “What’s wrong?” He repeated.

Emma’s face got red, he thought with anger, which yes she had, but it was more embarrassment, shame instilled in her from her parents and nearly everyone she knew that you shouldn’t talk about these sorts of things. Especially with boys, they’ll be too grossed out, they don’t want to hear about it. So instead she avoided his question with one of her own. “Jesus Christ. Are you seriously keeping tabs on what pills I take?”

“Yes.” Paul responded without a shred of secrecy or regret. “I need to know what’s wrong with you so I can help.” It was just that simple.

“Paul just-“ she was going to tell him to drop it, that she was fine, when she doubled over, clutching her stomach, it was like an electric shock in her abdomen. God she hated the spasms, then she couldn’t control it. 

“Emma? Okay now I know something’s up.” She felt his hands wrap over her elbows and sit her back up and... ugh! Why were they so warm?!

She shrugged her elbows back to get him off, before straightening herself again. She took in one breath “I’m fine now.” And exhaled.

Paul was not convinced. He eyed her worriedly. “Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

Emma snorted.

Paul kept his hands hovering over her, like she’d fall off the couch she’d double over so hard. “Em,” he reasoned, “you’re not my prisoner.” Emma laughed wryly. “If it’s bad I can take you for a check up.” Paul still offered.

Emma hated it, but the words that came out of her mouth she really meant. “Paul that’s actually kinda sweet.” She cringed at herself outwardly, but luckily to him it just looked like another minor spasm. She ran her hand over her stomach with a shaky breath. “But I promise it’s not that bad.” She finished

Now it was his turn to snort. “What's your definition of not that bad, Emma?"

She didn’t give him a definition. Instead she didn’t want to dance around the subject and make a bigger deal out of it that it was. Maybe then he’d stop.   
“I’m on my period.”

“Oh."

There was a brief pause before she saw Paul start to open his mouth.

"You better not tell me there’s no pain in the hive or I swear..." She didn't finish her threat, her eyes bore into him enough, already pissed she had to explain herself. She didn't need to.

Paul shook his head, his arm not hovering over her anymore but instead lounging on the back of the sofa, behind her. "That's not what I was going to say." He promised her.

Emma wriggled in her seat. "Oh. Well that might have been the closest you could have got me to considering even joining your little posse." She joked. Paul didn't catch on.

"Really?" He said loudly, happy, only for her top half to lunge forward as another wave of pain hit Emma's centre and Paul was back to his senses.

Paul reached forward and rubbed her back, his other hand tucking any strands of hair that fell back behind her ear. Touch had been much more common and much less refused in the past week or so of her being here.

“Did you know some scientists think that periods actually hurt more than heart attacks?” Emma distracted him as she curled up her knees onto the couch. “How fuckin killer is that?”

“That sounds terrible! ...maybe you should lie down.” Paul offered.

Emma laughed bitterly. “And distract me from your cure? No thanks.” but then she grabbed her side from a sharp pain, groaning lightly. Paul was not about to let her walk around and put more pressure on herself. “Emma you’re in no fit state to work.” He told her as he gently got her to at least lean on the arm of the sofa.

“The people controlling sick days would beg to differ.”

“Emma...” Paul held a chiding tone.

Emma sat up again, her voice tired. This would not turn into another argument. “Paul, seriously. I do this once a month...” she tried to convince him but in fairness this was probably one of the worst periods she’d ever had. She thought on that for a while. Thought out loud. “But I think the stress of this past month has probably made it worse.” Her back sent a shock up her spine as she moved positions. She shuffled back until she was resting against the sofa cushions, breathing deeply as it subsided. “You know what day it is tomorrow?” She asked, starting to get a little sweaty now.

Paul gently moved her neck, tucking her hair to fall over her shoulders before letting her throw her head back, so her hair wasn’t all sticking to her. “What?”

“The month anniversary of me and Paul talking properly for the first time.”

Paul didn’t look to her, even though her head had fallen into her shoulder to stare at him. He was still kinda worried that she didn’t see him as Paul. He would try to change that, then she’d trust him. “Yeah I remember that, I had been trying to talk to you for what a little less than a year before that.” He smiled smally at the memories. There were lots of instances where he tried to talk to her and failed miserably.

Emma bit her lip. And then she bit harder to try and stop her moan from the next wave of pain.

Paul moved her onto his lap. “Look, writhing there isn’t helping.” He held one arm over her lower middle, holding her hip, as his other hand massaged her lower back from the space he had between her body and his chest.

Emma laughed through gritted teeth. “I’ve been though plenty worse.” She said, to try and guilt him but as soon as the words left her mouth she started to feel a little bad. After all he saved her from getting ripped to shreds. He’d been nothing but kind and patient and it’s not really his fault he took Paul’s body ov- ‘no!’ She screamed at herself to stop that thinking. 

Meanwhile Paul really wanted to get their friendship up. And he didn’t want Emma to be in pain any more. But if she wouldn’t join the hive... he had another idea. 

He took his hand away from her back and she whimpered. He wanted that to stop. “Emma?” He asked, she just grunted, in reply. “I’m going to try something. Okay?” He couldn’t see her face like this but watched the back of her head move as she nodded. 

He slowly moved his hand down from her hip and rested it on her lower stomach, and then he started to press against it. She hissed at first but then she closed her eyes softly because she trusted him, and she just felt him. Felt him massaging her abdomen, how warm his hands were, even over her top. And she started to feel less pain.

She placed her hand over his, making sure their knuckles were connected and Paul slowed so she could get her fingers positioned in line. “No...” she told him as he slowed for her, so he kept going, and Emma’s hand stayed. 

It felt absolutely amazing. She was starting to feel better, so much so she didn’t care about consequences. She lolled her head back into him and squirmed in his lap till she was pressed back into chest. Her lower back being cocooned with his body heat. The back of her head resting on his shoulder. Paul’s other hand reached out, waiting for Emma’s and she met him half way. He took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze, and she pressed it against her chest, holding it there so he couldn’t run off on her. Meanwhile Paul’s fingers and edge of his palm were working magic on Emma’s lower stomach. And she accepted all this. 

Until it started to feel a little too good down there.   
Emma quickly opened her eyes but slowly moved his hand away. She didn’t make a noise, the whole thing had been so blissfully silent, but turned her head to face him. He looked back expectantly. He didn’t mention her red face, presuming it to do with the pain. Her lip twitched up, for just a second. “I’m feeling much better now.”

Paul breathed out a laugh and Emma could feel it on her chin. She just smiled.

“Well, that’s great, Em.” 

She smiled again as he leant forward, closing her eyes, as he pressed his lips to her forehead, she wasn’t expecting him to hold them there for that long. It was only a few seconds, but it was long for her. He pulled back and a few more seconds past before he lightly patted her hip. 

Emma shook her head lightly as she realised why; standing up because she still hasn’t made a move to get off him. He gave her a hand up off his lap and she did the same for him. She did not let go of his hand. 

Paul smiled softly, using her hand to lead her back down onto the sofa. She curled up where it was warm from where Paul was sitting. 

“I’ll be back in one sec.” He promised.

Emma nodded meekly. Truthfully a few seconds alone would be good. So she could look down at her body and ask ‘what the fuck was that?!’ But it really did only feel like ‘one sec’ as before her brain could try and find an answer for her Paul came back. She looked up at him and watched as he sat next to her, acutely aware of their thighs touching since he sat so close. She went to look to their thighs only to find Paul holding out something for her down there. It was a bar of dark chocolate. She looked up at him.

He licked his lips anxiously. “This should help, right?” He still was slightly nervous when she didn’t say anything, even as she did take the bar out of his hands, and her fingers fluttered over his when she did. He cocked his head to the side in a small laugh. “Hey even if it doesn’t, it’s a nice treat anyway!” She flutttered her eyes up at him for one second, giving him a reassuring smile that fell when her eyes did, like she was only smiling for his benefit. He frowned lightly. But more mixed messages came as she broke up the bar and plopped a piece in his hand. He gently bit the corner. “Thanks Emma.”

She smiled back, chewing on her piece silently. She seemed to be looking anywhere but at him. Paul sighed, shifting slightly in his seat so he was directly facing her and Emma gave him the same courtesy, swallowing quickly. Paul was lost in her deep eyes, unable to think of what he was supposed to say, the words not flowing... until she blinked and he snapped out of it. “Erm... Emma? Can I ask you something that’s gonna be really-” He gestured with his hands for a moment and Emma nodded along. “-raw. But also I can’t really tell so I need you to help me out.”

Emma exhaled with puffed cheeks, rubbing her hands down her legs because they were getting sweaty. But she knew what the answer was. “Sure man.” It came out a little more casual than she intended and she cringed. Paul rubbed her lower back, thinking it must be more pain, and she didn’t tell him otherwise. 

“What do you think about me?” He asked.

Boy that was a loaded question. He took his hand away, thinking the pain was over. Emma didn’t want the touch to stop. She brought her hand to his face and her fingers curled along his jawline. Her leg moved to rest on top of his and soon her thumb was stroking his jaw as her palm cupped his cheek, looking at him, feeling him, to know what she felt. But she came upon the conclusion that she didn’t really know herself. That was until Paul’s eyes fluttered closed, nuzzling further into her palm and he gave a happy little hum. She pulled her hand back, slowly though. He opened his eyes again.

Emma sighed stiffly. She was playing with her own fingers now. “I...” she looked off. She was actually gonna be honest with him wasn’t she? She bit the inside of her cheeks to remind her to speak. “...wouldn’t turn you into PEIP.” She told him and she would have been annoyed if he rejoiced at that. But he just blinked. Like he was surprised. His teeth were bright though as he smiled ear to ear. Emma picked at her nails, unable to look at him. “But I just want the real Paul back.”

Her small voice as she said that made Paul know she was really being truthful with him. He felt her move her leg so they were no longer touching, both planting their feet firmly on the floor, but they weren’t even an inch away from each other. Paul turned his head as it rested in his palm, Emma in the exact same position leaning on her elbows. “Emma I know you’ve been asking me stuff to gain info for your cure,” she turned to him now. “but have you actually listened to any of the things I’ve said?”

“Paul I don’t wanna hear about how amazing the hive is okay?”

“Emma we need to talk. Seriously.” He took her hands into his, his tight grip startling Emma into really paying attention. “If the hive thinks I can’t convince you they’re going to want to change you, either way.” Paul revealed. Emma felt herself becoming sick. She thought she had more time than this, that the hive may not revert. That Paul would protect her... wouldn’t he? Her question was answered as Paul wrapped his arms fully around her protectively. She didn’t resist as he lightly picked her up and lifted her back onto his lap. In fact, she tucked her head under his chin. She played with the buttons of his shirt to distract herself even slightly from this situation. 

“Would you honestly prefer to be killed rather than live happily with us?”

Emma’s hands stopped.

“With me?”

She shot her head up, her back straight as she looked seriously to him, but stayed planted on his legs. “I’m not answering that.” She told him firmly. But the reason this time wasn’t that she didn’t know. She did know. But she couldn’t let him know what her answer was. Because she would prefer to join them only if it meant not being literally ripped apart while still breathing. Even if she hated the hive with all her guts, she didn’t want to go out that way. She didn’t want to die.

“But can we at least talk about it?” Paul asked. His arms looping over Emma’s lower half lazily, one hand very lightly smoothing out the top of her bandage that had furled in on itself before settling on her thigh.

“And after we talk... I’ll give you a sample of my cells.”

Emma looked to him with surprise, her heart racing. There was no way she thought he’d let her do this, never mind offer. What could that mean?! But he didn’t give her an answer. Instead Paul just smiled kindly, leaned in, and pressed one more long kiss to her temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I’d add more plot stuff this chapter!
> 
> Sorry it’s been like 2 weeks since an upload, but there is a very good reason, I just moved into uni! So I’ve been trying to make friends and spend time with ppl while getting my bearings and then I got freshers flu (which I still have which is my excuse if this chapter has a few mistakes) but we should be back on track now 😊
> 
> As always any and all comments are greatly appreciated and really help motivate me with this series!! Thanks for reading!


	10. Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after the events of the last chapter and Emma’s still asking her body ‘what the fuck was that?’ when it comes to Paul. And she has had Paul’s cells for a week to work towards her cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Little warning there’s a tad nsfw this chapter, there’s no detail really but there are themes so not too bad but thought I should let you know)

Emma got her cell sample the day after her talk with Paul. Not that it had revealed much. Paul just became more confused as she was very closed off on her choice, of whether she’d rather fight and die than willingly join him. But when she built up that wall in their conversation again she’d scooch closer to him until she was burrowed into him as tight as she could. Obviously she was on his lap, and her face was flushed hot, leaning against his neck and hidden behind his shirt collar, her hands wrapped around his waist- she’d wrapped his round hers for him- when it got to that point she wouldn’t even grumble in response, she just stayed dead quiet. But Paul had promised so after putting her to bed and keeping a close watch over any more spasms of pain she had in the night, his hand never leaving her skin in any way, when she woke in the early morning he asked what she needed him to do.

Emma did feel slightly bad as she slipped the needle into Paul’s arm. She flashed him a quick smile but she had to focus on drawing the blood out. And then she had to focus on stopping her hands from shaking while doing so because of just how blue his blood was. But she gave him a plaster and he had promised her it hadn’t hurt so after getting some new gloves on it was time for her to experiment.

Emma had been holed up in the house for a week, doing study after study, half her hypotheses were wrong and the other results barely made any sense to her. And even when in her lab she was still going with the ‘stay close to him and he might become more human’ test. Paul had offered to help but apart from getting her some coffee or holding something for her there wasn’t much he could do. It was all a waiting game to see her tests play out and realise she really was an idiot who should never have taken bio. 

Emma groaned in frustration as she carefully binned another sample. She’d tried separating the normal cells that should be in Paul’s body from the neon ones that were obviously a strand from the hive, but it was a long, arduous process for every cell. That was the least of her worries though, over the week some of the cells she’d noticed had started... merging. Enough so that she couldn’t separate them, they had become not just co-dependent, but one being. She wondered if that would have any change in Paul. God she just wanted to _save_ him and live a happy life with him and not have to work like this any more. There was a part of her that wanted to grab his hand take the car and run off with him to her pot farm that was still waiting for her in Colorado. But she couldn’t do that now, not when the hive wanted her. And boy did they crave Emma. Paul was bullied into telling her all the details he had, and with a hivemind it was basically everything. Emma had probably one of the worst panic attacks of her life as she heard Paul’s tales of how they craved her voice and yearned for her to complete them, like a part of them was missing, like some sick puzzle, of course Paul tried to describe it as a family instead, but Emma got the feeling this time he was saying it to try and calm her than correct her. 

But Emma didn’t want to spend her days singing and dancing. She wanted to smoke weed and watch shitty vine compilations and eat Chinese food with Paul a dog and and cat. And she didn’t want a big new family, or for the shitty people of Hatchetfield to be her new family, and to have to dance with them everyday. She just wanted Paul.

She gave up with her lab for the day and checked her watch. 3pm, perfect. Paul had agreed to let her have a few hours alone completely undisturbed every day and Emma relished that time. No worrying that Paul was gonna try and talk to her about hive stuff at some point and she’d have to be on alert, these were down times. And Emma knew what she wanted to do, she just felt a little guilty that she was going to.

What do you do when you’re pretty sure you’re in love with someone, feel guilty about it and everything in life is making you feel hormonal? Pleasure yourself. Emma hoped maybe it would clear her head and if she felt nothing for him after then she knew it was just a hormonal horny thing. Because since Paul gave her that massage down there she’d been feeling a little... needy, especially when he touched her. Plus she hadn’t in months so it just made sense biologically it might just be a physical response and didn’t mean shit. She also hoped it would get rid of the dull pain in her thigh today, or at least distract her from it.

Paul wouldn’t be back up for 2 hours so Emma locked the door to the lab and quickly shut their bedroom door. She swung open the cupboard doors and grabbed some towels so she could just throw them in the wash and not have to wash the sheets so Paul hopefully wouldn’t be any the wiser. 

She put on some quiet playlist on her phone, just in case of any bed squeaking, but usually Emma was pretty good at staying quiet when she needed to be. 

Paul had been worried though. He expected the first day she might be hyped and over work herself before calming down but she’d been pushing herself well past her limit. She hadn’t even left the house all week, that wasn’t right. She had to leave the hosue, she loved not feeling trapped, but she’d tapped herself in that damn lab. She knew she was allowed to leave with him whenever, although without him was a no go, even though she couldn’t get out of Clivesdale as the others would inform him if she was spotted. He knew she wasn’t stupid enough to do so anyway, especially after their talk last week. 

Yesterday he literally did end up dragging her to bed, of course she grumbled and complained and Paul even thought he heard her hissing, but as soon as her head hit the pillow her muscles couldn’t move. She threatened to get straight back up but when he responded with “Try it.” She gave him this... surprised look. Paul was just happy she surrendered quickly, he was still a little upset when she jumped out of bed the second her eyes were awake and went straight to the office she’d now made her lab, she hadn’t even eaten! And she hadn’t spoken to him today yet. She went straight to her lab and he’d gone all day without hearing from her.

Paul looked at his watch but then let out a harsh breath, his knees beginning to bounce. He was getting a lot of built up energy from not dancing, and it was really itchy under his skin. His whole body had been shaking uncontrollably for about 17 minutes straight three days ago- Emma had conducted all sorts of tests on him after he’d stopped convulsing, but he convinced her just to let him stay on her lap where she’d cradled him when he fell, for a minute longer. But it’d kinda mellowed out since, his throat was parched and he was constantly downing water, even though he knew it shouldn’t do anything, but it wasn’t a horrible pain any more, more a pain in the ass. 

He knew he wasn’t supposed to disturb Emma in this time slot, unless of course it was an emergency... 

Well... Paul was highly concerned for Emma... and he knew she wouldn’t ask for help if she did need it... so him needing to go up to her now still counted as an emergency right???

As Emma got further into it flashes of Paul’s face came into her mind, she grumbled at herself when they invoked a more excited reaction from her body. But as she picked up the pace a little she started daydreaming. About pre-infection Paul. About a life she could have had with a normal Paul, where she didn’t need to do this and feel guilty from societal rule whenever she felt needy, that someone would be there to help her out. She closed her eyes as her imagination of Paul went wild and matched side by side with her own physical actions.

Paul slowly approached the stairs, dragging hismself up with the bannister, his conscience heavy with indecision. He promsied himself he’d make it up to her, that if everything was alright he’d give her as much time as she needed without him botthering her the rest of the day. 

He finally reached the bedroom door, putting his ear to it he heard very quiet muffled music playing and knocked just as lightly, thinking she might be asleep. Then he opened it. He didn’t expect the sight he found.

They both stared at each other like deer in headlights. 

Emma immediately started screaming. “GET OUT!” She cried, grabbing onto the quilt and covering her lower half.

“I..!” Paul covered his eyes and tried to find the door, but he couldn’t see now. “I didn’t-!”

Emma yelled, grabbing the pillow next to her and chucking it as hard as she could at Paul’s head. “GET! OUT!!!” Her voice carried that last word and her throat sounded raw. 

“I’m sorry!!” Paul squeaked, feeling something soft pummel him, quickly opening his eyes now he was turned away to run out he room and slamming the door shut behind him. He slumped against the door, his heart racing, only to hear more thumps against the door as Emma threw more shit. 

Paul had a lot of different emotions but mostly felt really bad when he just heard her crying again. And for hours. All because he couldn’t leave her be for an hour and invaded her privacy. She must have thought he was a pervert, some disgusting terrifying person who would just barge in on her like that. Now of course she wouldn’t trust him. And he’d made Emma, the person he’d promised he loved more than life itself, cry and cry again.

Emma didn’t even want to stand up. She rolled on the bed till she fell out, her hands slowly reaching out for her pyjamas she’d left on the floor, she didn’t feel like working any more. She tossed the towels, angry at their reminder, as she crawled back into their big bed, and threw the covers over the top of her fetal form until she felt cocooned in the darkness and warm from her own trapped breath. But no matter what the image of Paul’s face walking in would falsh back into her mind whenever she closed her eyes and she’d start crying all over again. This was the worst thing she could imagine happening with a Paul she knew wouldn’t kill or infect her. She was vile, pathetic, god how Paul must see her now. He’s probably disgusted at how he has to share a bed with her now, she thought. He must have thought she was a freak, or worse... he’d know she wanted him physically. But at least, until Emma told him, which would only happen in a perfect world where he was fully cured and she wasn’t that broken just yet- until then, he wouldn’t know just how much every other part of her wanted him, how her heart needed him most of all.

Paul started humming nervously, as the hours ticked by and Emma was still crying in bed, his voice strained and not on pitch. He paced around outside the door, shaking his hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet. But then he couldn’t take it any more, the pain was too much. Not the pain of not singing, but the emotional turmoil inside him he felt even though he wasn’t supposed too. He just kept hurting Emma, and that meant he couldn’t console her after either. It hurt too much and the songs made it better. But his notes came out all warbled and his lyrics would constantly shift from hissed whispers to being belted out. He eyed the door nervously, hearing another deep sob from Emma and quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, the words still tumbling out but he only let them free once he was downstairs. He balanced on the top of his toes and spun and spun... and kept spinning and spinning. He did this until he was dizzy. And then he began to sing more because now he was scared. He wanted his family! He wanted Emma... Because you were never supposed to get dizzy from dancing in the hive. Not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so idk how I feel about this chapter since it’s got the smallest of nsfw themes in it and it’s shorter, I even thought about not uploading this one I felt a bit off with it, but I had this one planned from the start and I think it’s important for the story
> 
> We’re getting closer to the final act
> 
> Please lmk your thoughts and as always thanks for reading!!


	11. Emma’s Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of last chapter there’s still some awkwardness in the air, but that dissipates when Paul thinks Emma is in trouble. And Emma finally gets through her unconscious barriers to come to realise something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: panic attacks

Paul stretched from the couch, he was beginning to hate that piece of furniture. He wished he could be up there with Emma but after yesterday’s events he wasn’t even sure if he could face her. Paul’s thoughts were so consumed by Emma as he got up from another night full of contemplating he wasn’t even thinking about the fact he had stretched his muscles as he got up for the day.

Paul walked around the bottom floor of the house tentatively, wondering if there was a chance Emma had snuck past him and into the kitchen or downstairs bathroom, but she was nowhere in sight, so, Paul presumed, must still be in bed. He was quite bored without her to talk to, but he didn’t want to be lying down anymore. He had to move! Paul stumbled about the smaller living area at the back till he found what he was looking for; the record player. Wow Paul was happy he lived here.

He smiled as his fingers danced over the record covers, looking through them happily, truly in his element now. When Paul got to the musical albums he found a good one sticking there, ‘cats, cast recording’, he did have a faint memory of watching it at a cousins house in his childhood but couldn’t remember all that much about the film. But either way, he brought the record out, and put the stylus on his favourite song of the track, just letting it go after that. He made sure it was quiet enough to only fill that room though, he didn’t want to wake Emma, but he needed a distraction, and music was perfect. And it was calming. It was homely.

It was only two songs later and Paul started to understand more what Emma meant about being cooped up. It was stifling. So, still on the houses property, Paul decided to go outside for some fresh air and walk around the house. He went slowly, taking in details of the front garden he hadn’t much cared for before, with nothing else to do now though. Maybe Emma would like a bonsai tree or something? Paul didn’t know if they could be outdoor plants but he’d ask her about it, he was sure she’d know. 

Emma waited a little longer after she heard the front door close. She’d stayed in bed for hours avoiding Paul, since she fell asleep very early yesterday after crying herself out, she woke up at 4am as rested as she could be. But when she woke and saw Paul wasn’t laying next to her she thought that he really must hate her still after yesterday. 

But wanting to walk about and not stay in her room she knew now was as good a time as any. As she tiptoed down the stairs she peeked through the windows. She knew Paul wouldn’t leave the property. But when she didn’t catch glimpses she deemed she wouldn’t awkwardly run into him and ran downstairs. Maybe she should go to the kitchen, she thought, grab something to eat. But as she stepped closer bile rose up in her throat and her body felt like it was walking in a dream as her senses were filled with the worse possible thing.

Paul kept an eye on the house constantly. His neighbours would know if he wasn’t paying attention and with such a special guest inside he didn’t want to risk them thinking he ‘wasn’t taking his role seriously enough’ or anything of the sort. He didn’t think at this rate he’d much like anyone else in his family hosting Emma. They may not be able to understand her as well, may not be as patient with her. They may _act_ without her agreeing to be with them.

But on his third slow loop, around the back of the house, even through the thick walls he head the unmistakable but muffled thunks of loud banging coming from inside the four walls.

Paul slowly started to walk further to the wall, and then the situation starting to seem more real as another very loud crash echoed through the slightly open window, Paul sped towards the front door as fast as his legs would take him.

When Paul got towards where the crashes had come from his heart started to race unrhythmically. There were items thrown all over the floor, the room was half trashed, objects broken on the ground, an armchair tossed over... The hive must have broken in. That’s all Paul could imagine. Anyone he saw near her wasn’t his family any more, not if they terrorised _her_. Not if they hurt his true family.

As soon as Paul shoved open the door the first thing his eyes laid on were Emma. She was curled into a foetal position on the floor, her cheeks were bright red but her eyes and mouth were hidden by her hands. She was surrounded by more fallen objects, in the background he could hear the glitching and scratching of the record player as it was stuck in a loop. Immediately he knelt down besides her, putting his hand on her back while his eyes scanned the room for a perpetrator.

He was confused when he saw she was completely alone. But as he drew his eyes back to her he saw the deep red trail, at first just a few splatters and then a small stream, of her blood, leading right to her. His eyes followed it up her white shirt where it dribbled, and alarm bells clanged in his head as he realised it lead back to her face.

Paul tried to quickly take her hands away from her face but Emma cried out, keeping them stuck where they were. “Emma you have to let me see!” He tried, tugging at her wrists instead but she wasn’t listening to him. 

Emma’s eyes widened as a mix of memories from yesterday and trauma from the apocalypse she survived all meshed together into a confusing, living nightmare. She moved her hands just an inch so they could cover her eyes.

Paul had no idea how bad the damage could be and that frightened him. He grabbed at her once again but she turned half her body away, her hands did retract from her face but only to make a quick shove at Paul before she brought them back, meaning he never saw her face; she was still scared he was very mad at her. Instead her legs kicked out at him, and when Paul tried to pry her fingers away she screamed at him, and wouldn’t stop until he let her go. When he wasn’t touching her she just sobbed instead. 

Making an impulse decision for her safety he grabbed her shoulder and pinned her to the floor flat, even as she whimpered. Her legs kicked out but she wasn’t able to raise them enough to hit him off like this. Then he took her by her hips and pulled at her till she was sitting up straight. Crouching still, he used one knee to lean her back against whilst Emma’s knees drew to her chest protectively. “Emma please, ssh ssh ssh ssh ssh ssssh.” Paul repeated, shushing her. “Let me help you.” He spoke softer this time and in return he felt Emma’s arm muscles become less tense. 

“Okay, you’re doing good.” Paul promised, calming, himself, and being able to speak to Emma mroe calmly. He hoped he hadn’t scared her, that even as she yelled and shoved she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Then he got an idea. “Can you bring your hands to your ears instead?”

Emma didn’t open her eyes, but she swiped her hands from the centre of her face to her ears, trailing blood, especially on her right side, along to them.

Paul saw the pool of blood on her right cheek, some fingerprints of it around her head and over her lips but he ignored them for now, trying to find the source of the bleeding. Luckily she’d taken to cowering right next to the sink so Paul only had to stand up to get a clean rag and wet it for her. He saw Emma’s eyes wide now and follow him as he crouched down again and he smiled at the eye contact, because it meant she was coming back. “This might hurt just a little.” His eyes flinched as he said that. The first contact Emma flinched back, her eyes fluttering and he winced, pulling his hand back just a little. But when she hadn’t made a move to move further still, Paul leant back in and gently brushed away the blood. His first move was the wipe away the hair stuck to her damp cheek, which he tucked behind her ear for now, before he could go to very carefully wiping away the excess blood. Paul was very proud of Emma, because she wasn’t even reacting to it. But quickly Paul realised there was no open wound there. He, slowly so she could follow his movements, took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving her other cheek towards him. Not a scratch anywhere on her face. 

That’s when his ears attuned to Emma’s breathing, having been concentrating on finding where she was hurt before. One look and he knew she was a second away from another panic attack. Her eyes were wide, white, her skin looking paler and he just hoped it wasn’t from blood loss. “Em?” He tried to get her attention, but her eyes were fixed. And following them Paul found the source of all her blood, her hand. The palm of which was still oozing blood as her veins pumped. 

Quickly, Paul jumped into action. He took Emma’s hand but she flung them back and brought them back to her ears, her eyes screwing shut again. Shit. Paul tried to rub her forearm, to get her to either look or listen to him but she was shutting down. Paul had to take a breather, he had to think. He knew blood made Emma panic, she hated it. That would be a reason why she was so completely freaked out. But something must have happened to make her bleed in the first place, and her responses didn’t make sense if blood was the only problem. At least the music helped Paul think, because of who he was. 

Then Paul felt like an absolute disgrace. A real idiot. He ran over to the record player and managed to take the stylus off the turntable and turned it off completely. He walked back apologetically, grabbing the first aid box in the cupboard and sitting down cross legged on the floor with Emma as he picked up his rag again. 

Emma slowly dropped her hands from her ears, after having shot her eyes open when she felt Paul move away from her, she saw him as he stopped the music. She knew it was safe now. Emma didn’t stop Paul as he gently took her right arm and placed her hand on his lap, starting to tend to her wound. 

Paul could clearly see where the cut was, so he knew where to wipe off the blood blocking his vision, the rest he didn’t bother with as it was still bleeding profusely, leaving a trail down Emma’s wrist. 

“Thank you.” Emma whispered, feeling calmer now. “For turning the music off. Thanks, I just... I couldn’t deal with that shit.”

“I get it.” He empathised with her, getting out the steri-strips. He just looked to Emma this time, and when she looked back and nodded he knew she understood. “How’d this even happen?” He watched her wince as he placed the cleaning agent on and tried not to overreact to her hiss of pain. Yes there was no pain in the hive, she wouldn’t have to go through all this if she joined, but he’d never force that decision on her and he was more than happy to do this to keep her happy and healthy if that’s what she asked of him.

“Cut my hand on the needle thingy of your record player.” She admitted with an annoyed laugh. He presumed she’d also freaked out when hearing the music and further when she couldn’t figure out how to stop it, and that accounted for the mess surrounding and leading up to her fragile body. 

“Sorry for leaving it on.” He quickly got done sterilising and placing the bandage on as fast but precisely as he could too.

“No. It’s not your fault. It’s your house.”

“It’s _our_ home.” Paul corrected. The sooner that blood was out of Emma’s vision the better. One look to her face to confirm he was done though and he saw the blood against her face, over her ears, in her hair, down her neck, not to mention on her clothing. It wasn’t a concerning amount but certainly nothing she’d want to deal with after all this.

Paul wanted to help her to her feet, but he didn’t even know where she wanted to go yet. So, tapping his fingers on his knees, he asked her. “Do you wanna go take a bath?” Looking at the blood on her he presumed she would, but she shook her head, her gaze averting to the ground. Paul had learnt not to presume anything about her though, to expect the unexpected. “Do you wanna go to bed?”

Emma shook her head vehemently no and Paul was kinda surprised about how firm she was about this.

“Okay, okay.” He calmed her, leading her to finally be able to stop shaking her head. Emma stared off into the ground. She didn’t want to be in that bed again right now.

“How about we go to the couch instead?” Paul suggested. Careful around her right hand, but used to this routine, with ease, mostly from Emma allowing this all to happen, he gathered Emma up into his arms and held her to his chest. He told her how brave and strong she was and how amazed he was with her as he carried her to the couch.

Paul tried to figure out what was best to help Emma through her panic attacks. Of course, he’d had quite a few back in the days before the hive, but he knew it was different for everyone. For him, he had to be alone, somewhere with a light source though, the dark scared him more and he got paranoid about the shadows when it got bad, and it had to be extremely quiet, sometimes his anxiety caused sensory overload which caused the panic attack in the first place, other times it’s just a symptom of the attack. But silence and isolation was key. Emma seemed to be the complete opposite.

She just seemed to get worse when he didn’t say anything, curling into a ball on the couch when he left and pulling at her hair. Then Paul turned all the lights on and Emma groaned, he saw her pulling more and realised she was trying to curtain her face. He left a soft lamp on behind them but turned every other light off. He could get why it was comforting actually. 

He walked back over the the couch and tested touch. He very lightly stroked a finger down her bare arm, and Emma whined, but not in a scared way. She didn’t open her eyes, but they weren’t hidden by her hair anymore, as she held out her wildly shaking hand, silently asking Paul to hold onto her.

So he did just that. Paul slowly moved towards the couch, sitting back down and letting Emma move herself. She didn’t have the energy to sit up it seemed, she just crawled over to Paul’s side, and rested her head in his lap. She let out a sigh as her cheek fell on his thighs, staring into nothingness, her arm falling limply off the cushions, but occasionally stroking Paul’s calf in an effort to calm herself. “Paul? Talk to me?” She eventually asked of him.

“About what?” Paul asked anxiously, his head racing asking hsimelf what information she would want out of him.

“Anything. Emma replied drowsily. “I just need a distraction...” Emma liked to listen to a friend talk, or in this case, Paul, then when she was distracted enough she could come up with her own questions or remarks about whatever they were talking about, and soon a conversation would start, so Emma could pretend she’d never acted like that in front of that person. 

Things were different with Paul.

Paul nodded, thinking of something to talk about. Something _non_ hive related. He smiled as a fond memory popped up. “So one time, me and my co workers got drunk in the park like a bunch of teenagers. It was after Mr. Davidson’s birthday party but me, Bill, Charlotte, Melissa and Ted all fucked off to get wasted somewhere else.” He laughed smally at the memory.

Things were different because she wanted him to remember, because she wanted him to hold her like this.

Paul stroked through her hair without actually realising he was doing it, as he continued to tell his story. “We were playing truth or dare, really living the teenage experience most of us had been too anxious or isolated to do before. And Ted dares Bill to close his eyes, then spun him around and told him to kiss one of us. He would never have done it if we weren’t all completely smashed. He grabbed me and I was so shocked how soft he was, he was like, barely touching lips, his hands were just robotic at his side. And then when Ted said he could open his eyes Bill just gasped, and he said ‘Oh thank god, I thought you were Melissa’ - because she was the baby of our group - and then when he realised it wasn’t her he grabbed my face and went for it harder and bigger than he’d ever actually do with someone he liked. He just wanted to make us all laugh.”

Emma liked and wanted Paul to coo over her.

“It was so immature but that’s kinda what we liked. It was one night we let ourselves be dumb kids again as long as we promised not to speak of the night after, I had some of the most reckless and the most fun times I’d ever had that night.”

To protect her.

“Well, those that I can remember.”

She wanted Paul.

He smiled down at her, when he saw she’d stopped shaking.

Emma needed Paul, infected or not.

“Any questions?” He gave her the chance to slide in. But Emma just shook her head. Instead of her arms hanging loose, she rolled over and rested her head against Paul’s stomach, curling up tiredly. “Instead of talking, can I just listen to you more please?” Emma whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment.

And even though Paul could tell Emma was better, he happily agreed to her wants. He carried on, telling another story, about his childhood this time, this one about his childhood dog. But Emma’s mind felt like it was so full there was no way she could take in his words. Emma had had a massive realisation and it consumed every part of her brain, her body, her heart. And even being stuffed like this she felt more free, because she wasn’t fighting the knowdlege she’d shoved so far back into her mind that she consciously wasn’t even aware of it. Emma accepted the fact now. 

She was in love with Paul. 

He was infected, but he was still _her_ Paul, the man that she wanted to stay with, and she loved with every single fibre of her being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promised I hadn’t abandoned this series!  
> We’re getting closer to the end and it’s a bittersweet feeling, we still have several more chapters to go though! (I hope ppl are still into this series lol)  
> As always please leave any and all comments and thanks for reading! 💕


	12. Change Of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and Emma both have a change of plans, not ones they make together though

Emma had been so exhausted. Paul had let her rest on the couch a moment longer and Emma had let him up as he went to make her something to eat, he wanted her to feel better. When Paul finally walked back in, he saw Emma was fast asleep. Her head was resting against the arm of the couch, she was all curled in on herself, her hair falling over her cheek, her fingers clasped together. 

Paul just couldn’t help but smile down at her. He quietly slid her coffee onto the table, making sure it didn’t clang too much, before he chanced a touch. His fingertips dusted over her hair, curling it behind her ear to better see her face. Her eyes were shut, not tight, but peacefully in sleep and a faint smile was pressed onto her lips. She was happily sleeping and Paul wouldn’t disturb her like that. He gently leaned down and tucked his arms under her, first margining to get under her knees, then her back and eventually he lifted her up bridal style, and tucked her close to his chest, singing his song to her, for her.

Emma happily tucked her head into his chest, exhaling soundly and relaxedly, even her unconscious form finally able to rest after all this time, knowing she really was safe, and the added fact she was no longer at war with herself.

Paul used his hips to shift open the bedroom door, wincing at its creak, but Emma still softly sleeping in his arms. Quiet as a mouse, his humming dying down now, Paul gently rested Emma onto the bed. He’d kept the window open this morning so it was slightly chilly inside. Emma wasn’t complaining, but Paul spritely manoeuvred the covers she was resting, and he felt like a real winner when Emma still didn’t stir, God, he thought, she must be exhausted. Paul tucked Emma into the covers, smoothing over the blankets and making sure there were no uncomfortable wrinkles in the material, laying it over her body. 

Tucked in, warm, and still fast asleep, peaceful and softly breathing Paul stood back to let her be. Only to be frozen there once he was far back enough to take in her entire form.

Uh-oh.

That was the only thought running through Paul’s head. The only sound he could hear apart from his blue blood rushing to his ears, making a blue blush spread across them. His heart raced and his fingers played together even as they shook greatly, a small whimper even escaped Paul’s throat, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of Emma.

He had to go away from her for a moment. He quietly closed the door behind her, keeping his eyes on her through the crack of the door until the last possible second. Then he ran downstairs.

Paul ran downstairs and broke. He placed his hand against his heart, trying to calm hismelf, nervously tapping his foot against the floor in a hazed tune. He knew, he loved Emma.

He already knew he loved her of course. Paul had loved Emma from the first moment he met her in Beanies. Then he’d travelled through the rest of peips forces and across the waters as the king of a new people, to be with her.

Paul moaned stressed, tearing at his hair. His feelings are wrong, bad.   
He looked at the ceiling, upstairs, Paul felt like he was going to cry.   
He was putting her in danger.   
But mostly, he knew... she only loved the man he once was. 

So Paul stopped his tears before they could fall. That last look at her, sleeping so happy... she’d never be happy like that with him while he was part of the hive and she was conscious. So he had to do what was right...

When Emma woke up in bed she smiled, knowing who must have put her there... again. She waited a moment, moaning into the sheets and stretching her limbs and once she was starting to wake, she called out to him. “Paul?” She kicked the shees off for a few seconds before pausing. She couldn’t hear Paul. So she stayed really quiet for a few seconds, but she still didn’t hear him coming upstairs.

Starting to get even more awake, she looked to the door and saw it was closed. Maybe she just wasn’t loud enough? “Paul?” She called out again. 

Nothing.

Maybe he was downstairs?

Emma grabbed a hair tie, putting her hair up into a messy bun before tiptoeing downstairs. It was cold in the house. That was one reason she barely wanted her feet padding against the hardwood floors. Another was that it was too quiet. And she felt like she shouldn’t disturb that peace. Like that would be bad.

But she risked it. As she gripped the bannister, she peered down the dark living room. “Paul?” She called out one last time

He wasn’t waiting for her where she could see at stairs like usual. Emma felt sick as could only hear grandfather clock, barely see through the dark house and couldn’t smell cooking either. The biggest terror making her heart race was that Paul NEVER left her in the hosue alone. 

God how long had she been asleep? She ran down the stairs now, thrusting open the curtains and saw it was a dark blue outside, but not pitch black. She flicked all the lights on as she travelled from room to room, why hadn’t Paul turned the lights on already?? She looked out each window before closing the curtains hastily, not wanting her infected neighbours to see her, Paul wasn’t in the front or back garden, nor the sides of the house. 

This is when Emma started getting worried. He wouldn’t not answer her.

What if Paul was hurt?! She very quietly called his name into every room she entered, even though she wanted to scream it out and tell him to get his ass out here, it was spooky right now. 

Emma made the choice that she was going to go outside she was going to the front lawn and was going to see if Paul was there. She carefully touched the door handle like it would burn her and then left the house.

He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. More startling to Emma, the car wasn’t there either.

Emma was seriously freaking out now.

She was freaking out but didn’t want her hiveminded neighbours to see, see her outside and without Paul. Who knows what they’d do to her? So she quickly rushed back inside, locking the door behind her just in case anyone had seen. If they had, she’d just have to pray Paul crawled out of wherever he was hiding and came there to send them away, because Emma didn’t think, even with Paul’s policy of only turning those who wanted it, that they’d just leave her be.

So when Emma went back in, she didn’t shout this time. But she found Paul’s own burner phone for emergencies with just his iPhone’s number stored on it. She didn’t know why it was here but grabbed it, sat down under the window so no one looking in the house could see her, and so she could cradle her knees for comfort, and held the phone to her ear as she called him.

She listened to it ring. And then go dead. So she pressed the call button back and presses the phone into her ear until it left groove marks. He didn’t respond after calls and calls and at this point Emma had no idea what to think. Because there was no way Paul wouldn’t answer her if he could.

Well if she knew he would respond maybe he was in a situation where he couldn’t talk? She imagined PEIP having him tied up, her Paul feeling his phone ring in his back pocket but knowing if he answered, the phone would he smashed to the ground... maybe if she texted him, and he was in trouble, he could discreetly text back? She was harming herself with wild theories, but she hadn’t tried texting yet so maybe that would work? She was going to try whatever she could.

So after an hour of nearly non stop texting, Emma scrambled to pick off the phone when it buzzed. It was only a text, but there was only one peron who could text this number.

But as her eyes lay upon it she read it. Then she read it again and her whole body felt numb. It had to be Paul, only Paul knew this number, but she didn’t understand why he’d sent her this. So she re-read it one last time.

`“You’re free. I’m gone now.”`

That’s all it said. She was so confused. She wiped at the back of her eyes, just to make sure they were still dry, and she tried to get more out of him. 

When Emma saw the sun rise and he still hadn’t responded, she knew he wasn’t contacting her again. So she finally stood up, after hours hiding and leaning against a wall in fear and confusion, and threw the phone as hard as she could onto the couch.

Emma didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why he’d left, what set him off, why he’d changed his mind. But mostly why it had to happen now? Why couldn’t he decide that ‘oh shit, maybe this isn’t right’ a few days ago, before he kidnapped her, before he walked in to the hospital and sung that stupid song. She started to cry. ...Why did it have to be just after Emma, for the first time in her life, finally accepted and didn’t push back her feelings, her real true emotions. The one time she was vulnerable. The one time she’d loved someone. _She couldn’t lose him again._  
...And this was what he did?

Well fuck that.   
Emma stood up and glared at the wall until her burning eyes stopped crying.

Fuck that. 

She was free. Just like he said. Just like the thing pretending to be Paul had wanted.

And she knew exactly what she was going to do with her freedom.

She wasn’t a coward. She was a fighter. She needed justice for everyone the hive had fucked over. She wanted Paul to pay extra for all that psychological shit he’d put her through.

She was leaving Clivesdale, and she was blowing up that meteor her goddamn self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISED this series was not abandoned! I’ve just had no time but now we’re quarantined I’m hoping I can finally finish it, we don’t have long left!!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait I hope you guys don’t hate me/have given up on this fic lmao
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading and any and all comments would be really appreciative 💕

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so please please please let me know what you guys think. This is the first series I’ve done in what maybe a year and a half, 2 years? But I already have rough notes for the rest of the series and certain chapters to include so hopefully i’ll be updating it soon, I promise I’m not just going to leave it here aha, but I’d really appreciate some feedback either way, it means the world! Anyways I hope you enjoy this first chapter, and sorry if it’s not great, I’m still getting back into writing, but I can already feel myself getting back into the swing of things now


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